


Promptio on Ice

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: An epic tale of boys on the Ice, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Gymnast!Iggy, Hockey star!Gladio, M/M, Sex on the Ice!, Skater!Prom, Thirsty rich boy!Noctis, Tumblr Purge 2018, figure skater/hockey player au, not actually a YoI AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 37,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Gladio's mesmerized by the new skater he keeps seeing around the rink. He's lithe, graceful, charming in his own awkward way - and has a killer ass to boot. How long before Gladio finds himself (literally) swept off his feet?(A collection of headcanons and snapshots that tell the story of two dorks falling in love on the ice)





	1. Gladio falls hard for the mysterious skater at his rink

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started as a simple headcanon ask on Tumblr, and turned into a full-fledged story with a life of its own. I had so so so much fun writing this, and I'm so grateful to everyone who sent prompt requests and suggestions to continue the story. This couldn't have happened without you guys :)

\- Prompto’s been into figure skating since he was a little kid. He loves being out on the ice, feels more at home there than anywhere else. More than anything, he loves being out on the ice  _alone_ , just him and the sound of his skates cutting across the rink. It’s easy to get lost in that sound, to forget his coach and the audience and the judges. It’s not about winning, it’s about escape. 

\- Gladio started playing ice hockey as soon as his father could get a pair of skates small enough to fit him. Clarus himself played for the Insomnia Kings for years, even made it into the HoF, and so naturally big things are expected of his only son. And yeah, Gladio is  _good_  - he’s the team’s youngest MVP and earned himself the nickname “the Shield” on the rink (no one has ever managed to knock him down)

\- But Gladio lives in the shadow of his father, and despite the accolades he never quite feels like he’s good enough. So he stays late after practices, hits the ice for another hour or two all alone. He tells himself the extra training will pay off someday…. Yet something still feels like it’s missing.

\- One day, after a restless post-game night, Gladio decides to hit the rink a full four hours before practice. He imagines the place will be deserted, but is surprised to find the back entrance already unlocked and the lights on in the locker room. He changes into his gear, heads out to the rink…. And is stunned to see a lone figure skater already using it. 

\- He’s beautiful. Like,  _really beautiful_. Even in a sweatshirt and black leggings, Gladio can see the dedication the skater is putting into each move - he lands every jump with practiced precision, adding flourishes of his hips and hands that make it look effortless. Gladio knows better, he knows what it takes to move on the ice like that…. Although he’s never seen anyone move with such perfect grace. Or such natural eroticism. 

\- He watches for at least fifteen minutes. Totally and painfully aware of his erection under his heavy gear. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, and he sure as hell can’t skate with a big fat boner. So he resigns himself to the side of the rink to watch. 

\- Prompto is breathless by the time he comes out of his last spin. He’s been here long enough, he thinks, and starts for the locker room. That’s when he notices he has an audience. He freezes, realizing that hunky hockey guy is staring right at him, and instantly panics. How long has he been there? How much did he see? Then the hockey hunk is standing up like he wants to say something and  _oh shit - !_ Prompto freaks, flips up his hood, and zooms off to the far exit of the rink. He’ll send someone back for his shoes and his bag. 

\- Gladio, of course, feels like a dick for scaring the kid off, especially without even getting his name. He doesn’t, however, feel like enough of a dick not to jerk off to the mental replay of the performance later in the showers, or even again that night in his bed. Something about that kid has him hooked, refuses to let go, and so he decides to head back to the rink early the next morning, as well. 

\- The missed sleep pays off. Despite having run off the day before, the mystery skater is back, and this time Gladio is ready. He foregoes his usual gear, wearing only a hoodie and a pair of boot-cut jeans over his skates as he glides silently out onto the ice. It takes a moment for the kid to notice him, but when he does his bright blue eyes go wide and he  _almost_  loses his footing - catching himself just in time to land the jump but not to hide the blush that spreads across his face. Gladio laughs. Up close the kid if even more beautiful, with bright blonde hair that looks like he fell asleep on the ice, and freckles spattering his cheeks. 

\- Gladio offers a hand for balance, almost surprised when the kid takes it after only a moment of hesitation. His voice hitches as he mumbles his thanks. He doesn’t seem to be able to meet his gaze without turning even redder, so he stares at the space between their skates while he slows to a stop. Gladio can’t quit smiling. “Anytime, beautiful.”

\- Prompto knows next to nothing about any sports outside of his own, and therefore has never heard of Gladio and doesn’t know he’s kind of a big deal. Likewise, Gladio has no idea that Prompto is considered a prodigy on the ice (he’d never acknowledge that himself, anyway) and their mutual ignorance allows them to relax as they first start talking, then skating together. 

\- They develop a routine. Every morning, they meet on the ice before the rink even opens to practice together. Gladio quickly realizes that the grace and finesse with which Prompto skates is what he’s been lacking in his own technique. He begs Prompto to teach him, and though it takes time (and lots of hands-on practice, which leaves them both far more flustered than they’re willing to admit - because really?! Why are Prompto’s hands so soft? And why are Gladio’s muscles so firm??? The nerve!) eventually Gladio manages to get down the basics. 

\- He’s so grateful that he asks Prompto to go out and celebrate with him. Like, drinks. Together. Just the two of them. 

\- It isn’t until Prompto shows up wearing a nice shirt with his hair styled down as flat as he could tame it that Gladio realizes it’s a date.  

\- They both have a great time. Until they’re several beers in and someone recognizes Gladio, asks for an autograph and gets everyone in the bar clamoring after him. Prompto is adorably confused. Gladio (ever polite to his fans, no matter how pissed he might be) finally excuses himself to ask Prompto if they can go somewhere more private. 

\- This, of course, leads them back to Prompto’s apartment. Which wasn’t Gladio’s intention but…now that they’re here…. Prompto puts on some old 90′s movie about hockey (it’s literally the only movie Gladio recognizes from his collection) and they order a pizza and get comfy together on the couch. Prompto doesn’t protest when Gladio wraps an arm around his shoulder. And Gladio doesn’t mind in the least when Prompto’s hand ends up on his thigh. And if the night ends with them cuddled up on the sofa, Prompto asleep on Gladio’s chest and surrounded by his arms, well…. Maybe Gladio’s complaining just a little bit. Only because it’s really hard to keep his boner from jabbing Prompto in the stomach. Which would just be rude. 


	2. "Toepick" <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto teaching Gladio the meaning of the word "toepick"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an [adorable gif](http://lhugbereth.tumblr.com/post/164266982043/time-for-bed) to go with this (until Tumblr is dead)

Because Gladio has never been knocked down in a game. He’s all strength and speed going into collisions and the other players never stand a chance. It’s why they call him the Shield. He stops himself with brute force ramming into the opposing team, or into the rink wall, or just with his stick for balance.

But during the early days of training together, when he tries to mimic the way Prompto oh-so elegantly draws himself into a stop? He falls. Right on his ass. Repeatedly.

He’s embarrassed and frustrated. And Prompto just skates up to him after like the tenth time. And he’s just like, “toepick.”

Gladio allows Prompto to help him up. He might be blushing a lot. Which Prompto finds adorable because holy shit for once it’s not him!

And he holds Gladio’s hand as he skates backwards, drawing Gladdy with him. Faster and faster. And then suddenly he lets go at the same time he begins to stop himself. Gladio’s eyes go wide because he’s about to crash into him, and he panics because he’s watched much bigger guys get dragged off the ice bleeding for less.

He definitely, definitely doesn’t want to hurt Prompto.

So he digs his toepicks into the ice and kinda stumbles a bit, but it works. He doesn’t stop completely, but he slows down enough to merely glide up to Prom, who smiles and holds out his arms to catch him.

“Better,” he says. “Let’s try that again.”

Gladio is so fucking in love, he’s disgusted with himself.


	3. He's beauty, he's grace, he'll spill coffee all in yo' face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Prompto's first real not-date. The barista is all of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consequently, this is also the first real "chapter" in this mess of a story, but please bear with me. Here's the original prompt: 
> 
> "Ok but Prom is so endearingly clumsy OFF the ice that it's a wonder how he can be as good a skater as he is, and every bump into Gladio's massive frame only makes the big guy fall deeper for him"

\- The first time Gladio sees Prompto off the ice it’s about three days into their morning practices. He’s pretty exhausted (how can Prompto always get up so early?!) so he swings by a coffee shop on the way to the rink. There aren’t many customers yet, but he’s surprised to see a familiar blonde tuft at the counter. Prompto is ordering his coffee (it’s a really complicated order, something involving no foam and soy milk - Gladio has no idea how that’s even considered coffee, honestly) and wearing a heavy black jacket and tight leggings, with black sneakers that are probably two sizes too big. And glasses.

\- Gladio didn’t know Prompto wore glasses.

\- He’s suddenly feeling much more awake.

\- Prom still hasn’t noticed him by the time he walks up to the counter. He grins, leans over the kid’s shoulder to order a tall drip, black - and startles him so bad he nearly fumbles his coffee right out of his hands. Thanks to some fast thinking and Gladio’s honed reflexes, he catches Prompto before he can drop it completely, but at least a third of the drink ends up on his hands, his arms, the floor, and his sneakers. Prompto insists that he’s fine, he’s just so clumsy sometimes, don’t worry about it and laughs it off. But Gladio feels like an asshole and helps to clean him up right there in the shop.

\- Prompto has never blushed so hard in his entire life as when Gladio gets down on his knees in front of him to rub at the stain on his shoe.

\- The barista blushes, too, because she’s pretty sure these two hot guys are dating. And if they’re not,  _they really should be_.

\- They smile and sip their coffees while they walk together to the rink. It’s cold out, late autumn, and despite his jacket Prompto is still shivering at the pre-dawn chill. Without really thinking, he leans closer into Gladio’s body heat….

\- And accidentally steps right on his foot.

\- Gladio yelps (more in surprise than in pain)

\- Prompto flips out and really does drop his coffee this time.

-They stare at each other for a moment, before Gladio bursts into laughter and Prompto stammers for an apology.

\- He’s still blushing and flustered behind his glasses and  _goddamn_ if he isn’t the cutest thing Gladio’s ever seen in his life. He throws a heavy arm around his shoulder, turns them around, and marches them right back to the cafe to buy Prompto a new drink. Gladio pays, of course, no matter how much Prompto clings to his arm and protests that it was  _his_ fault and he should be buying  _Gladio_ a drink - but once the fresh coffee is in his hands he’s very very careful not to drop it this time.

\- He’s also careful to cover up the barista’s message scrawled on the side of the paper cup - “ _Invite me to the wedding!”_

##  **Bonus:**

\- Gladio makes it a habit to tease Prompto about his glasses. He’s always asking about them when Prompto switches to contacts, or trying them on to make Prom giggle. One day, Prompto comes in with tape holding the frames together (he dropped them off the sink in the bathroom and stepped on them…true story) and feels like a total nerd with a big ol’ piece of white tape across the nosepiece. But Gladio finds it endearing, naturally. As soon as he sees them, he slips the glasses off Prompto’s face, presses a kiss to the tape, and hands them back. It’s how he fixes his little sister’s booboos, he says, and laughs.

\- Prompto is so hopelessly in love, he just wants to melt right through the ice and disappear.


	4. Hockey is not for Prompto. No, no.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompto has a few hours break and watches Gladio train on the Ice with the other players. Gladio is fierce. Gladio watches Prom practice and appreciates the the man's grace" (original prompt)

\- Prompto has never been into hockey. It’s not that he particularly hates it, but despite being an athlete he really just isn’t all that into sports. Especially team sports. And very especially the violent ones. But Gladio seems passionate, and after all their training together he feels like he needs to see him live and in action.

\- He buys a ticket to the next game without telling Gladio.

\- It’s a big match, the Insomnia Kings versus the Tenebrae Oracles. Both are apparently top-ranked teams (Prompto doesn’t really get all that stuff about leagues and rankings) but when he gets to the rink that day he’s overwhelmed by the sheer number of fans. Most people are dressed in black and crimson (the team colors for the Kings) while a handful of out-of-towners are there in blue and gold to root for the Oracles. Prompto notices a few booths outside selling merchandise - and is shocked to see Gladio  _everywhere_ : jerseys with “Amicitia” and his number (15), pens and notebooks and folders with his face on the cover, sports towels and even framed photos with his autograph.

\- He’s not quite sure what to think because Gladio never mentioned he was such a big deal? It makes him feel scared and small but also thrilled and a little weak at the knees.

\- He buys a towel and some folders (and maybe one of the little Gladio-shaped plushies they were almost sold out of) and heads inside to find his seat.

\- The game starts and the energy is real. Both teams skate out onto the ice and the fans go into a frenzy. It’s so very different from figure skating, where the audience watches in a kind of silent awe - here, the fans are loud, rowdy, banging on the floors and seats and plexiglass to show their support. Prompto feels out of his element, honestly. But once he spots Gladio, looking bulky and tough under his shoulder pads and that ridiculous black helmet, he starts to feel the energy, too.

\- The game itself is brutal. Prompto can’t really even tell where the puck is half the time with the way the players’ massive bodies keep clashing over it. A few of them go down in the first five minutes, and Prompto is appalled at how quickly they’re dragged off the ice, the game resuming as soon as the blood is mopped up. It’s hard to watch, if he’s being honest, and he ends up clutching his Gladio plushie and cringing as more and more of the players are carried away with broken noses, cuts, scrapes, and probably a few less teeth than they went in with.

\- He’s glad when it’s all over. The Kings won by a landslide, and the fans are cheering and shouting, but Prompto is feeling a little light-headed.

\- All he wants is to find Gladio and make sure he’s okay.

\- It’s probably stupid, but he knows the staff at the rink, and he thinks it might be okay just to sneak back to the locker rooms to check on his friend. He slips out of the crowd and makes for the back of the building. Cindy recognizes him right away, smiles as she lets him into the locker rooms - and he freezes as he finds himself face to face with a very sweaty, very  _shirtless_ Gladio.

\- Words. What are words. He has none.

\- Gladio is just as surprised, but he pieces together quickly that Prompto must have come to watch him play. Without thinking, he rushes over to pull him into a hug. “You made it! I thought you hated hockey!”

\- ”It’s um….”  _Chest. So much chest. And tattoo. Why didn’t he know Gladio had ink?!_

\- “Next time I’ll get you a free ticket up front, okay?”

\- “Um. You…. You’re hurt.”

\- And he is. Not bad, nothing he isn’t used to, but he’s bleeding from his eyebrow and while it certainly makes him look like some kind of bad-ass warrior, Prompto’s feeling weak at the knees again. From the blood. Definitely from the blood, and not from being pressed up so hard against Gladio’s chest that he can feel his heartbeat.

\- Fine. Maybe both.

\- Gladio’s teammates usually patch each other up after a game. But they notice Prompto already holding a cold compress to Gladio’s head as they sit together on the bench, and they can read the lovesick puppy dog eyes the two are giving each other. They grin and exchange winks, and decide to give Gladio and his pretty friend a little private time.

##  **Bonus!**

\- The team goes out for celebratory drinks that night, and Gladio bends the rules a little to allow Prompto to join. The two get teased incessantly even though they keep insisting they’re just friends,  _oh em gee_  - until one of Gladio’s teammates (Nyx) notices something stick out of Prompto’s messenger bag. It’s a team towel with Gladio’s number on it. Gladio’s eyes go wide and Prompto wants to disappear out of embarrassment.

\- Then Nyx digs deeper and pulls out the Gladio plushie.

\- Everyone loses their shit.

\- Gladio is blushing now, too, and Prompto is begging for lightning to strike him dead on the spot. Nyx, being Nyx, keeps tapping the plushie’s mouth against Prom’s cheek and making kissy sounds.

\- Gladio might threaten to body check him in the middle of the restaurant.

\- He also might secretly reach over and grab Prompto’s hand under the table.

\- Prompto might spend the rest of the night internally screaming, but at least no one’s teasing him about his doll anymore.


	5. Prompto is flexible. Gladio is not. Ignis is a bitch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Presenting Ignis! World-class gymnast and one of Prom's coaches. He, um. Doesn't approve of distractions. 
> 
> ...And Gladio is very much a distraction ;)

\- One morning, while Gladio and Prompto are practicing together, Prom pulls a crazy move that has him skimming across the ice almost on his back and skating right between Gladio’s legs. It takes a lot of balance of course, but he makes it look easy and Gladio is left stammering and speechless. He’s never seen anything like that, and makes the mistake of asking just how flexible Prompto really is.

\- It’s only a mistake because he isn’t prepared for Prompto to actually  _show him,_  to drop down into a clean split right on the ice or lift his leg right up to set his ankle on Gladio’s shoulder. There’s no coaxing down his hard-on after that one. So he settles for going rink-side (behind the wall, because he’s at least  _kind of_  a decent person) and watching as Prompto shows off even more.

\- Graceful dips, arching his back further than Gladio had known was possible, and all in leggings that are so tight they should be illegal (but Gladio’s glad they aren’t). He asks where the hell Prompto learned to do all that stuff, and the blonde offers to take him along next time he goes to the gym.

\- Ignis, Prom’s gymnastics coach, is a strange man, striking Gladio as both aloof and condescending. He takes one look at Gladio from behind his spectacles, sizes up his bulking muscles, and quickly dismisses him in favor of getting Prompto ready for their practice. That day they’re apparently working on bars. Gladio takes a seat on the sidelines to watch as Prompto stretches to loosen up. Ignis is there to challenge him, holding Prompto’s ankles or pressing down on his back to limber him up.

\- Gladio has some very inappropriate thoughts about how he’d very much like to be the one to do that.

\- Ahem.

\- When Prompto is ready, Ignis watches closely as he powders his palms, runs, and launches himself up onto the first bar. He starts slow, swinging his legs back and forth to build momentum, until he’s able to release the first bar and come right back down onto the next. From the side, Gladio bursts into genuine applause, but Ignis seems…unimpressed. He calls Prompto down, shakes his head, says something to him that Gladio can’t hear but he notices the way Prompto’s shoulders slump.

\- Ignis decides to demonstrate. His movements are so fast and so fluid that Gladio can barely keep up, but then Ignis is swinging himself in a full circle around the second bar and both him and Prompto burst into applause.

\- They switch back to stretching. This time Gladio’s allowed to join and  _goddamn_ if it isn’t the cutest thing Prompto’s ever seen. His face is red with effort as he strains to touch his toes. While Prompto is onto the next move - his legs out to the side in a perfect line, hips flush with the floor and back arched - Gladio is still trying to get himself out the butterfly. Prompto giggles, Ignis  _tuts_ , and Gladio is too busy wincing at the cramp in his thigh to even be properly embarrassed.

\- He limps out of the gym that night, with Prompto smiling and supporting him with an arm around his waist. Behind them, Ignis mutters something about  _priorities_ , but the two are already moving out of earshot.

\- Prompto tells Gladio he should take the next morning off, that he’ll only pull something if he pushes himself to run or skate. Begrudgingly, Gladio agrees. “But that means I won’t get to see you.”

Prompto swallows. They’ve been training together for weeks, nearly every day, but until now Prom has been under the impression that Gladio was only interested in learning some new techniques on the ice. He didn’t even consider that Gladio  _might_ be interested in  _him_ , and the realization leaves him speechless for a long time. They end up walking together all the way back to Gladio’s apartment. Prompto sighs when they reach his front door, wondering if he should say something, get it off his chest while he’s still so close.

\- But he never gets the chance to decide.

\- Gladio’s lips are so soft against his mouth, so warm despite the evening chill. Prompto can’t breathe, can’t think. His mind went blank the second Gladio leaned down to kiss him, his brain short-circuiting and then rebooting in the span of an instant. And then he’s throwing himself at Gladio before the chance is lost for good.

\- For the first time since they left the gym, Gladio doesn’t notice the cramp in his leg. He doesn’t even mind the way Prompto is stepping right on his toes. He just hugs him tight around the waist, kisses him back with weeks of pent up emotion and energy, and marvels in the enthusiasm with which his feelings are returned..

\- It takes a while before either are willing to pull away. Prompto’s got tears in his eyes and he’s clutching the front of Gladio’s jacket, cheeks flushed and freckles standing out like dark stars. Gladio wants to count every single one with his lips. He’s already breathless and both of them are smiling, and he wants to say something,  _anything_ to get Prompto to stay. But the blonde takes a step back. His hands slide down to Gladio’s, twining their fingers together for a moment, before he finally speaks. “I’ll….bring you a coffee in the morning, okay?”

\- It’s not exactly what he was hoping for, but it’s a fair compromise. Gladio smiles and raises one of Prompto’s hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d love that.”

\- The next morning, Prompto jogs up to Gladio’s door with a coffee in each hand and a bright smile on his face. Gladio’s already up, with eggs, bacon and pancakes ready and the table set for two. But the moment the coffees are out of his hands Prompto is holding Gladio in them instead. He pulls him down into a kiss, slow, exploring. Gladio breaks into a smile as he brings their foreheads together, his fingers already running back through soft, blonde hair. “I’m sorry,” Prompto says in the space between them.

\- “For what?”

\- “I should have stayed last night.”


	6. Gladio is quite the romantic. Noct didn't sign up for this shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As a relationship is starting to form, Gladio finds that Prompto is suddenly backing off, cancelling plans and hardly ever around and Gladio is sure something is wrong or Prompto doesn't really want to be with him. He's at Iggy's place one afternoon and Ignis is watching a skating competition. Of course, Gladio very quickly spots his pretty blonde skater and realised that Prompto isn't ditching him; he's in the middle of one of the biggest competitions of his young career!" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Budding relationship, check. Prompto suddenly and inexplicably busy, check. Gladio worried he’s done something to fuck up this…thing they have, check. The only detail I’ve changed is Ignis since he’s already one of Prom’s coaches. Instead, enjoy Gladio hanging out with his friend Noct, who also happens to be the son of the owner of the Insomnia Kings. *Thumbs up!*

_Sorry, I can’t make dinner tonight. Something came up._

_Hey, I’ve got some stuff to do this weekend, see you Monday at the rink?_

_Gotta take a rain check on that coffee. Maybe next time?_

Gladio’s pretty sure he’s fucked up. Big time. Not that he has any idea what he did wrong, of course, but he doesn’t know how else to explain Prompto’s sudden distance. The blonde’s basically cancelled every plan they’ve had for a date over the last week and a half, and he’s been tired and distracted throughout their morning practices. He texts Gladio less and less, and usually only to tell him he’s too busy to hang out.

Had he said something wrong? Done something to offend him or make him uncomfortable? Gladio spends a lot of time thinking about it, trying to solve the mystery without having to confront Prom directly. It keeps him up late some nights. Maybe it was the handjob he’d given Prompto in the locker room? Had he been moving too fast? He frowns, stares up at the ceiling above his head as he vividly recalls the scene. Prompto against the lockers, the taste of his lips, his throat. The sound of his soft moans as Gladio first palmed him through his leggings, then rolled them down to wrap his fingers around his cock. He’d been so sure Prompto had wanted it, but… What if he regretted letting Gladio touch him.

Or worse, what if he thought Gladio had been taking advantage?

He tries not worrying about it, but it’s impossible. Prompto is always on his mind, before practice, after, and especially in the quiet of his bedroom. Even when he’s over at Noct’s, probably his only friend besides Prompto outside of his teammates, he can’t seem to stop checking his phone. Or sighing when he sees Prom still hasn’t even read his last message.

Noct lets this go on for a while before finally, “Problems with that skater boy of yours?”

“He’s not my - “ Gladio stops short. From the way Noctis is grinning at him, he’s already answered the damn question. No doubt Nyx had already blabbed about that doll thing. “Look, it’s no big deal. He’s just…. I think maybe he’s mad at me?”

“Probably. What’d you do to him?” Gladio is less than amused by Noct’s show of support. Some friend he is. But short of telling Noct they were fooling around in the locker room (the locker room of the rink his  _father_ happens to be the owner of), he really couldn’t come up with an answer. Noct merely shrugged. “Huh. Maybe he’s just busy with the Grand Prix coming up.”

“…The what?”

Noct give him a look. One of  _those_ looks, and sighs heavily before reaching behind him for the remote. He flips on the TV, scanning through a couple channels until he gets to the sports highlights. “Seriously, man. How long you two been dating and you know nothing about his life?”

“We’re not da - “ But Gladio freezes. On the screen, several figure skaters are smiling and waving at the camera. The header tells him they’re in Altissia -  _Altissia?!_  - on the eve of the Grand Prix, and that thousands, millions of fans even have come out in support. But what catches his eye more than anything is Prompto, right there in the middle, his smile tired but bright.

_How the hell didn’t he know Prompto was going to Altissia?!_

Suddenly, it all makes sense. The cancelled plans, the last minute bails. Prompto’s been working his ass off training, and Gladio’s been too blind to see it. He feels like an ass. He  _is_  an ass. And he wants to make it up to him.

“How fast can we get to Altissia?”

“…You’re kidding, right? And did you say  _we_?” Noct shakes his head. “Better cool it, loverboy. Those seats have been sold out for months.”

But Gladio’s determined to do something, to find some way to show Prompto he’s got his back. He spends the rest of his night making calls and shooting e-mails to every connection he has, until (to Noct’s horror) sometime after midnight he manages to snag two VIP tickets and business-class seats on a flight in the morning. Noct isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve this torture, but as long as it’s all going on Gladio’s credit card he can’t really complain about the free trip.

They barely sleep. On the flight, Gladio streams all the videos he can during the warm-ups, feels his heart race every time he sees Prompto skate out onto the ice. Because goddamn he knew Prom was good, but he didn’t realize he was  _good_ good. He shifts in his seat and keeps checking the time on his phone. All he cares about is making it in time to see this with his own eyes.

The airport is a maze, and Gladio is practically dragging Noctis behind him as he runs for the taxis. They’ve got an hour. He tips the driver extra to step on it, and they make it to the rink just before the finals round. His phone tells him Prompto is leading. Gladio ditches Noct when he stops for popcorn,instead making for his seat as the lights dim. His mind is racing. He’s got a perfect view as Prompto skates into the rink in a skin-tight blue costume and his arms held to his chest. Then the music starts.

His performance is mesmerizing. The way his body flows and rolls to the music leaves Gladio breathless, the perfect execution of every jump and spin has his jaw dropping to the floor. They’ve skated together so many times that he can practically  _feel_ Prompto’s hips sway and his head drop back, as if it were falling onto his shoulder instead of thin air. And he  _yearns_ , both to be out there on the ice with him, and just to feel him in his arms again.

He realizes, in that moment, what this is. Why he spent more money than he wants to think about on an impulsive trip across the continent. Why he watched Prompto over and over on his phone screen as if he could smell him, taste him, touch him if he tried hard enough. And why he hadn’t been able to get Prompto off his mind even in the middle of the night.

He realizes he’s hopelessly, madly in love.

The performance is over far too soon. Everyone around him is applauding, and Prompto flashes breathless smiles around the arena. But Gladio can’t move. He can’t think about anything other than getting backstage to see him. By the time Noct reaches the VIP booth, popcorn in one hand and a soda in the other, Gladio is nowhere in sight.

It takes some convincing to get past the security. Altissians clearly aren’t as into hockey as the people back home. But once he’s through he’s running. Prompto is up ahead, chatting with a man Gladio recognizes as his gymnastics coach. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough for Prompto to see him, and then he’s already at his side, scooping him up into a hug that has his feet lifting a half foot off the ground.

Everything is happening too fast. Prompto can’t speak, can’t even breathe, and then he’s pulling back to look into Gladio’s eyes. But…how…? When did….? “ _What are you doing here?”_  he squeaks out at last.

“Prom, you were perfect out there.”

“You…saw me?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Prompto doesn’t understand. He specifically didn’t tell Gladio about the GP because he didn’t want to distract him from his own games, but…. He’s here. He’s here and he’s holding him and that’s all that matters. Tears are welling up in his eyes before he can stop them and he dives into his chest, pulling him as tight as he can. “Thank you….”

A voice behind him catches both of their attentions. “If you two are  _quite_ through, they’re announcing the results now.” Ignis shoots Gladio a dark glare, and Prompto forces himself to pull away.

“Wait for me, okay?”

“You know it.”

Prompto wins. It comes as no surprise to Gladio, but it leaves the blonde overwhelmed, fighting back tears as he’s called out to accept his gold medal. The rest of the night is a whirlwind of cameras and microphones and flowers and signing autographs, and thank goodness for Iggy because he’d be a total mess on his own. By the time the crowd dies down and Prompto can finally leave, he almost wonders if he’s stuck in a dream.

The sight of Gladio sitting on the front steps of the arena is too much.

He sits down next to him, sets his flowers aside, and just hugs him while he cries. How could everything possibly be so unbelievably perfect?!

Ignis states that he’s heading back to the hotel. Prompto tells him not to wait up.

They end up going to Gladio’s hotel room instead. He kicks Noct out (Prompto is kind enough to give him the card key for the room Ignis booked them nearby) and the two barely make it to the bed before they’re falling into each other. The questions can wait. There’s too much energy, too much adrenaline, and Prompto needs something to ground him. Gladio’s body, sliding against his as they swallow each other’s moans is as perfect a feeling as he could hope for. Gladio’s mouth on his neck, his powerful hips rocking into him as Prompto tightens his legs around him is even better. Their fingers entwined as they lay together, breathless and smiling and laughing on the small bed is absolute heaven. Prompto never, ever wants to let go.

Luckily for him, neither does Gladio.

##  **Bonus!**

That night, Ignis is startled when he comes back from the hotel’s sauna to find a young, half-dressed man sleeping in his bed. 

He checks the room number and considers calling for security. The moment he picks up his phone, however, he finds a message from Prompto informing him that Gladio’s friend would be taking his spot for the evening, followed by a babbling apology and the few emojis that he knew were on Iggy’s approved list. Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose. A gentle tap has the kid in his bed rolling further into the covers. A hard shove has him nearly toppling over the mattress and onto the floor. He scrambles up in a panic, groggy and offended, and turns his bright blue glare on Ignis.

“Who the fuck’re you?!”

Yes, he thinks with a deep sigh. This is off to a charming start. 


	7. Prompto gets injured, but Gladio knows just how to fix him up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompto has trouble initiating enough lift for a certain move. His coach (Cor??) has him practice it often despite this to try and get Prompto up to a score level worthy of Gold. One time Prompto lands hard enough he twists his ankle. Gladio spoils his ice prince. Carries Prompto up any stairs to and from the car and even with people take pictures Gladio doesn't care. He's in love and the world can go fuck themselves." (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie - Cor as Prompto’s coach is absolutely brilliant. I can easily picture Cor out on the ice, arms crossed and body rigid, face turned down in a frown as he critiques Prompto’s moves. And of course he would be someone Prompto would aspire to impress. Maybe he was even once a world-champion figure skater, called “the Immortal” because no one could knock him down from first place…. He merely retired when he got bored with being number 1. Lol anyway!! I passed on the “even with cameras around them” part because I’ve got other plans for that, but I tried to compensate. Prepare for the smutiest skater AU Promptio yet!!

\- Cor sighs, his frown deepening as he watches Prompto try the jump again. And again, And again. He never quite falls, but his landings are clumsy, hard. He’s clearly getting increasingly frustrated as he once more zooms across the ice, turns into the jump…and yet again misses that fourth spin by a hair. “Enough, Prompto. You’re tired.”

\- “I’m fine! Almost had it that time!” He flashes a smile that Cor knows he isn’t feeling. Nothing hurts Prompto more than his own failures. So he tries again. And again. And again. Cor is done. He’s going home. “Wait! Just one more time!” Cor tries to warn him, but it’s too late. Prompto’s cheeks are flushed and he’s sweating hard. When he starts to spin, he turns too hard in frustration, foregoes his landing in favor of that one, last turn….

\- …And comes down hard enough that Cor  _hears it._

\- Prompto never screams. He’s used to injuries, even if his ankle has never quite been at  _that angle_  before, and…it’s okay. He’s fine. He just needs to….

\- OWFUCKINGSHITOWWWWGODDAMMIT

\- Okay. Standing up, bad plan. Cor ends up driving him to the hospital, where he’s poked and prodded and x-rayed, and finally splinted and given a pair of crutches. The ONLY silver lining is that he doesn’t have any major competitions for the next months, and he’ll only have to sit out of a few local events. He doesn’t tell Cor, of course, but he’s more concerned about missing his daily training sessions with Gladio…. Even if half of those mornings have started out with exercise not at the rink, but in Gladio’s bed.

\- At least they can still do  _that_ , right?  

\- He texts his boyfriend (he’s pretty sure that’s what Gladio is, even though they haven’t officially labeled this… _thing_ they have). Gladio immediately rushes to the hospital to pick him up. Meeting Cor goes…about as well as he would have imagined. The coach eyes him from head to toe and very reluctantly allows Prompto to go home with him. It helps a little when he sees Gladio lift Prompto up and set him delicately in the seat of his truck. At least he knows how to be a gentleman.

\- Despite Prom insisting that he’s fine, Gladio pampers him for the next two weeks. Even little things that Prompto really could do by himself, like fold laundry or take a bath, Gladio is right there to be his hands. It’s nice, in a way, especially with all the extra massages and kisses he’s getting. Also, Gladio’s lap makes a great foot pillow.

\- And except for when Gladio has practice or his own games, he spends almost all of his time at Prom’s apartment, day and night. Prompto’s bed is a little smaller than what he’s used to, but he doesn’t really mind when it means they get sleep so close together. He makes sure Prompto is comfortable before settling down behind him, kisses his neck and promises him they’ll be back out on the ice together in no time.

\- The inactivity is killing him, though. Prompto is used to a hard schedule, long hours of training and running and putting his muscles to work, and now he…can’t. When Gladio’s not there, he lifts weights, does crunches, anything he can to keep moving. It’s not enough. So by the time Gladio gets back from the rink and showers, Prompto all but jumping him. His sex drive is through the roof, pulling Gladio into heated make-out sessions anywhere and everywhere in his apartment. By the end of the first week they’ve fucked on the bed, the sofa, the floor, the kitchen counter, the coffee table, the bathtub, once on the balcony (it was late and they were mostly quiet), and even against the washing machine  _while it was running_.

\- For his part, Gladio is more than happy to help Prompto burn off the excess energy.

\- He’s such a selfless guy.  

\- Cor drops by to visit from time to time. He usually calls first, and Gladio knows to make himself scarce while Prom’s coach is around. Almost like they’re two teenagers (they’re aren’t) hiding from an overprotective father (Cor isn’t), and it’s thrilling in its own way. And Cor always brings food, which is a plus.

\- But, like all teenagers, they eventually get caught. It’s not pretty. Cor walks in to see Gladio’s bare, tattooed backside hovering over the arm of the sofa, Prompto’s pale ankles (one of which is still splinted) on his shoulders and a whole lot of noises he wasn’t prepared for.

\- His fucking  _aura_ flickers.

\- Prompto  _knows_.

\- They are at least given some privacy to untangle themselves before facing his wrath. Gladio looks like a hockey player who’s just been cockblocked (he is) and Prompto looks absolutely mortified (yep). Cor demands to know why he isn’t resting, why he’s risking injuring himself further. Is he really going to throw his career away for a fling? 

\- Prompto pouts. Gladio isn’t a “fling,” and he’s been more supportive than anyone else since his injury! Besides, who he loves isn’t any of Cor’s business, anyway. He has no intention to stop skating or to stop seeing Gladio, end of story.

\- Gladio follows eloquently by flipping Cor the finger. Which, in hindsight, is probably the closest he’s ever come to actually dying, but. Worth it.

\- Cor leaves, skeptical, and Gladio carries Prompto back to bed to finish what they started.

\- By the time Prompto is fully healed and ready to skate again, Cor is ready to offer an apology. They drop the subject after that. Prompto is happy to be back on the ice, even if he’s still got a bit of catching up to do. And Cor has learned his lesson about walking into apartments unannounced.  


	8. Promptio breaks the Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They invite each other to watch their contests. Some people found out about them, they made it to the headlines: love on ice. Also: Gladio getting jealous of Prompto's skating partner." (original prompt)

\- Gladio isn’t really sure what he should call Prompto. He thinks they’re “seeing each other,” which to him means they sleep over at each other’s places a lot, have a lot of really,  _really_ good sex, and watch each other’s games/competitions when they can. Yet he also knows there’s more to it than that. There’s the texting, late at night and early in the morning. The smiles and the meaningful glances, the lightness he feels in his chest when they kiss. Not to mention going out for coffee, movies-and-chill nights (which actually sometimes involve just chilling together), and all the little things in between that make him wonder how he ended up falling so hard, so fast.

\- He’s hesitant to use the word “love.” That word only ever gets people in trouble.

\- But when he walks into the rink one day to see Prompto already on the ice, his hands around the waist of a beautiful young woman as they skate together in perfect unison, Gladio doesn’t know how else to explain the sudden and overwhelming pang of jealousy. It’s all he can do to keep from rushing into the rink and pulling them apart.

\- Instead, he settles for skating out toward them with his hands in his pocket and his mouth set in a frown. “Hey,” he says flatly, looking from the girl to Prompto and back again.

\- The pair skate to a stop. Prompto flashes him an oblivious smile. “Gladdy! You were late this morning, so Luna and I got started without you.”

-  _Luna_?

\- The young woman smiles as she holds out her hand to him. “Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. You must be the  _special friend_  Prom keeps telling me stories about.” From the way she’s smiling at him, lips curved at the corners in amusement, it’s clear that Prompto’s been telling her  _a lot more_  than just stories.

\- “I’m Gladio, yeah. Did I miss something here?”

\- “Oh, Luna’s in town to watch the competition this week. Her brother’s back in the men’s solo cup this season since he got banned from…pair skate….” Prompto flushes, glancing quickly at Luna as if worried he’s said too much. But she’s still busy appraising Gladio and doesn’t seem too bothered by it. “We were doing some warm ups while we waited for you.”

\- Gladio grunts. He’s still caught up in the shock of having walked in on them, of having seen Prom’s hands on someone else, and even though he knows it’s stupid, he can’t shake the feeling of jealousy.

\- Luckily for him, Luna seems to read his tight frown. She excuses herself, skating to the other end of the rink to practice jumps while giving the two men some privacy. Prompto quickly takes over, his eyes and smile bright as he draws up Gladio’s hands in his and begins to pull him across the ice. “Luna’s probably the best skater in Tenebrae,” he explains while they move together, starting with their footwork routine. “She and her brother won gold in the pair skate Gran Prix last year, but…. Ravus got in trouble.”

\- From what Gladio knows of Tenebraens (which comes from his games against their hockey team, the Oracles), that surprises him. Despite a little elitism, they’re usually known for their exceptionally good sportsmanship. “What’d he do?”

\- Prompto flushes again, but his smirk speaks volumes. “He fucked one of the judges during the finals.”

\- Gladio snorts. As they skate together, hand in hand and with Prompto’s smile on him, his mood gradually improves. They do some drills, some speed runs, and Gladio shows off just how much better he’s gotten at graceful stops. Prompto smiles and praises him, catches up behind him and wraps his arms around his solid waist in the same manner he’d been holding Luna when he arrived. “I’d love to really skate with you one day,” he says against his neck.

\- Gladio feels it again, that lightness in his chest, and despite Prompto being a good head shorter, he leans back against his frame. “If you’ve got the patience to teach me.”

\- Lips against the rough-shaven line of his jaw finally bring out his smile. “Only if you’ve got the time to learn.”

\- Gladio thinks that yeah, he’s got all the time in the world for Prom.

\- A sudden flash of light and the rapid click of a camera shutter startle them both out of the moment. They turn in time to see two figures, one tall and lean, the other short and portly, making a run for the exit. Luna is already shouting after them, her skates flying off at the edge of the rink as she starts to give chase.

\- “Gladio, who was – ?!”

\- He doesn’t hear the rest. Putting all his years of endurance and stamina training to the test, Gladio hops the side of the rink and goes barreling after the cameramen. His skates are going to be ruined, he can hear the metal scraping on the concrete floor as each foot comes down, but in the end it’s all for nothing. He and Luna lose sight of the men in the parking lot out back.

\- Prompto comes racing out a moment later. Gladio is sitting on the ground, swearing darkly as he tugs his skates off his feet, and Luna looks like she’s going to cry. “Who the fuck were they?”

\- “I’m so sorry, Prompto,” Luna says softly. She reaches for him, catches sight of Gladio’s feral glare, and shrinks back. “Ever since the thing with Ravus… They’ve been following us. I didn’t imagine they’d be here in Insomnia, too, but….”

-  _Paparazzi_. Gladio knows all about them. About how they once hounded his father after another player had been snubbed for the Hall of Fame in favor of Clarus. There had been heated tension among the NHL community for months. The dirty journalists had thrived on it.

\- And how they had gotten a shot of him and Prompto on the ice. It was only a matter of time before that bomb dropped and their…relationship made public. What would happen then? Clarus had barely managed to hold onto his career in the midst of the rumors, even with Regis Caelum at his side. Gladio’s name might save him, but Prompto…?

\- “What are we gonna do, Gladdy? What if that picture gets out?” Chewing his lip, Prompto looks frantically between him and Luna. His eyes are round, red, scared. He’s holding back tears. He thinks that maybe they can deny it, claim the photo was shopped, but Gladio is well aware that there’s no quelling the rumors once they start. They really have only one option at this point - to beat the paparazzi at their own game. But they’ve got to act fast.

\- And as soon as they’re done, Gladio swears he’s going to find those assholes and rip them limb from limb.

\- The photo does indeed get printed on the front page of the next morning’s sports tabloids. “Amicitia and Argentum heating things up on the ice!” reads the headline, but by then it’s already old news. Between the three of them (mostly Luna), every social media site on the web had blown up overnight. A single selfie, much clearer than any paparazzi shot, showed Gladio’s smile pressed to Prompto’s ear and their hands curled together in a heart at the bottom of the frame. The hashtag #boyfriendsonice (also Luna’s idea) was trending in a matter of hours. Prompto (who had already come out publicly) wrote a touching message to his fans, thanking them for their support as he explored this new, wonderful relationship with his hunky hockey player.  

\- Gladio, who was less active online, got his teammates to help spread the word. The homepage for the Insomnia Kings hosted the selfie, too, with the caption, “Love is love, no matter what team you skate for!” (This one earned Gladio a call in the middle of the night from Clarus, of course, but that was still preferable over the alternatives).

\- In the end, the show of support was overwhelming. They were still getting heartfelt letters and gifts from fans days later, and tickets to Gladio’s game that weekend ended up selling out. He had to pull some strings to get rinkside seats for Luna and Prompto. But amidst all the cheering and the limelight, he was grateful to know they were there. Luna had quickly proven herself a true friend, and Prompto….

\- Well, Gladio no longer had any doubts about what he felt for his brave, beautiful boyfriend. And he was certainly done with hiding it. 


	9. Kings versus Demons: Prompto side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompto watches one of Gladio's games. When Gladio gets a hard hit and a fight breaks out it takes all of Noct's tiny muscles to keep Prompto in his seat not to go out on the ice. When Noct asks what the hell Prompto thinks he can do against a fully suited hockey player Prompto only responds with a very frightening "I know all the places where there is no padding and I have a very sharp pair of skates" "Prompto....No." "Prompto Yes." (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Noct to Luna for this scene since that’s who ended up at the game with Prompto in the last “chapter” :) This will be from Prompto’s POV, but the same scene from Gladio’s perspective will be next!

\- Prompto still isn’t sure how he feels about hockey. He’s been to quite a few games by now, and he thinks maybe he’s starting to get the rules down, but he’s still not a fan of all the blood. Even with Gladio promising him most of the injuries aren’t as bad as they look, he still cringes every time he hears a nose break, or watches an immobile player get carted off the ice. He tries not to think about Gladio getting hurt like that, tries to keep from shrieking anytime someone checks him harder than necessary.

\- Gladio might be “the Shield,” but Prompto knows he’s really just a big softie on the inside.

\- Surprisingly, Luna seems to be really into the game. Even by the end of the first quarter she’s standing up and cheering when the Kings score a goal, waving around her black-and-crimson banner (suspiciously with Nyx’s number and “King Ulric” scrawled on the front). They’re playing against a long-time rival team, the Gralea Demons, who are apparently known for their underhanded strategies and unsportsmanlike conduct both on and off the ice. Already a few fights have broken out, and each team has received a fair number of penalties from the referees. Most of the penalties have resulted in penalty shots in favor of the Demons - and the score is still tied halfway through the game.

\- Prompto can sense Gladio’s tension even from a distance. The third quarter is starting up and he’s got his gaze fixed hard on the Gralean player in front of him. Prompto can’t see what they’re saying to each other, but from the way Gladio’s gloved fists are clenching around his stick, it can’t be good. Prompto reaches over and grabs Luna’s hand because he’s not liking where this is going.

\- Sure enough, about two minutes later Gladio’s losing it. Whatever the other player is saying has him madder than Prompto has ever seen, and then they’re going down in a blur of red and black and violet. Gladio clearly struck first, so the refs race over to give him his penalty. But he isn’t finished. His fists are flying and the other guy’s helmet is sliding across the rink. There’s so,  _so_ much blood. It takes both refs to pull Gladio off, and even then he looks ready to dive back into the scrap.

\- To horror of all the fans (and, of course, Prompto), the refs bench Gladio for the rest of the game. He snarls, throws his stick down and fumes off the ice.

\- It takes all of Luna’s strength to hold Prompto in his seat. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

\- “That was totally unfair! That guy provoked Gladdy! Everyone saw it!”

\- “Maybe, but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

\- “I can give that asshole a piece of my mind!”

\- “Prompto…. He’s three times your size.”

\- “And? I’ve got a pair of skates in my locker and I know right where to put those blades.”

\- Luna realizes he’s actually kinda serious and practically sits on him to keep him from murdering anyone for the rest of the game. Which, without Gladio, turns into a shitshow fast. In the end, the Demons scrape by a meager victory, but it’s a victory all the same. Dirty tactics or not, everyone knows they wouldn’t have pulled ahead if the Kings’ star player had been there. Maybe no one is saying it, but they’re all blaming Gladio for the humiliating defeat.

\- Prompto knows his boyfriend. He knows he wouldn’t have lost his cool - and risked the game - over just anything. But he also knows no one will be harder on him over it than himself. The moment the crowd starts clearing the stands, Prompto is slipping out from under Luna and rushing back toward the lockers.


	10. Kings versus Demons: Gladio side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In some game, Gladio looses his cool, starts a fight on ice and gets sent away for the rest of the game. Kings lose this important match and almost everyone blames Gladio, including himself. Prompto is the only one who can cheer him up." (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is from the same game as the last part (Insomnia Kings versus the Gralea Demons) only this time we get to see Gladio’s side of the story. And just what that asshole on the other team said to piss him off so bad… 
> 
> Warnings for violence, language, and not nice threats.

\- Gladio skates out onto the ice feeling like nothing could possibly ruin his mood. Even knowing their game that night is against the Gralea Demons, the nastiest team in the division, he’s all smiles. The seats in the arena are packed, creating a sea of his own team’s black and crimson. There are colorful signs and cheering fans, his teammates are pumped on the atmosphere. And somewhere in the front row, Prompto is there to watch him. It feels like the start of the best game of his career.

\- The Demons send out their starting lineup - six gorilla-sized skaters in deep purple and grey, their smiles decidedly unfriendly beneath the visors of their helmets. But what they gain in size, they’re going to lose in speed and technique. All around them, the crowd is cheering, stomping, sending a fierce energy through the air, and it’s reflected in the Kings’ cocky grins. This ought to be an easy game.

\- Gladio lines himself up against one the biggest of the brutes as the ref skates out to place the puck. The buzzer sounds out the start of the match.

\- Everyone springs into motion at once. Out of the corner of his eye Gladio sees Biggs snag the puck, and narrowly dodge his opponent to pass to Nyx. Then Ulric’s flying down the rink while the crowd cheers him on. He’s got three guys on him but they can’t match his speed, and soon he’s in range of the goal. He aims up, slams the puck hard, and the goalie only manages to block it by throwing himself to the ice at the last second. No goal, but Nyx is grinning at the near-miss anyway. The Demons exchange looks, then glare at him as one.

\- Ten minutes into the first frame and the Kings have already scored two goals. The Gralean players are pissed. As soon as the puck is put back into play, they’re suddenly changing their tactics. All five of the skaters are ignoring the puck and going straight for Nyx, and in an instant he’s down. The refs can’t tell whose stick tripped him or who tackled him first, but the damage is done - Nyx is helped off the ice with his left arm clutched to his chest, while the Demons lose two players to penalties. Two more identical brutes are ready to replace them. The Kings, however, are crippled.

\- Now Gladio’s mad. He throws himself into defensive mode, using his shield tactics to help the others avoid Nyx’s fate. But the longer the game goes on, the fiercer (and dirtier) the other team gets, until they’ve taken out half the Kings’ players and caught up to their score. The game is tied at the end of the second frame. So much for this being easy.  

\- That’s when the Demons bring out their secret weapon to obliterate Insomnia’s last defense.

\- The Gralean team, coached by an old but ruthless man named Aldercapt, has always relied on rough, brutal tactics to quite literally crush their opponents. Usually, this means exploiting their own players like pawns in order to weaken the other team little by little. Penalties mean nothing to them in the face of victory. But overpowering their opponents sometimes means studying them, knowing how and where to strike without needing to land a blow. It’s dirty, it’s savage, but it almost always works.

\- And Amicitia is an easy target that day.

\- Both teams line up at the starting line, pairing off to wait for the buzzer signaling the start of the final frame. Gladio skates into position only to hear a mocking voice call out to him. “That pretty boy of yours here tonight?” the man across from him grins, showing off a mouth significantly less full of teeth than it should be. Gladio glares at him but refuses to acknowledge that. “I hope he is. Me and the team wanted to meet him.”

\- The buzzer hasn’t sounded yet. Gladio feels his fingers twitch. “Focus on the game, asshole.”

\- “Oh, I am, don’t worry. But as soon as we win, we’re planning to take that boy of yours as our prize. Spoils of war, y’know.”

\- “Shut your fucking mouth.”

\- “Sweet smile he’s got. Bet it’d feel real good wrapped around my dick.“

\- “I said _shut your mouth_  or I’ll fucking shut it for you.”

\- The man’s grin darkens. As the ref skates up to the center line, puck in hand, the Graelan player leans forward, lowers his voice just for Gladio. “How many of us d’you think he can take before he’s beggin’ us to stop?”

\- He tries not to picture it, tries to keep the image of Prompto bruised and crying at the Demons’ mercy out of his head. Gladio’s jaw clenches and his fingers tighten around his stick hard enough to hurt. He imagines the heavy wood is the man’s neck, and he wants to snap it in half. It’s really all he can do to resist. The buzzer is all that saves him in that moment, but even when the frame starts he can’t shake the man.

\- “We’ve broken toys before,” he continues, dogging Gladio even as he races for the puck. “Made ‘em beg for mercy before the end. Is he pretty when he begs? When he cries?”

\- Gladio’s seeing red. The game is fading from his vision, the cheers of the crowd drowned out by the man’s hateful words. “You better believe when we’re done fuckin’ him, your pretty little whore’ll never skate again.”

\- That’s it. He’s done. Game and rules forgotten, Gladio whirls around and slams his fist into the man’s jaw. The crunch of knuckle against bone is deeply satisfying, but it isn’t enough. He follows him when he goes down, arms swinging as he attacks again and again, breaking bone and skin alike while the man beneath him howls with laughter. Hands are grabbing him, he doesn’t know whose. All he cares about is that the other man is still breathing and so he isn’t done. There’s blood everywhere. The crowd is silent. The only sounds in the rink are the ref’s shouts and the sickly wet thuds of fists against an already broken face.

\- Gladio can’t think, can’t see straight. Several men eventually pull him up, shout at him to get out of the rink. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. Gladio throws his stick and fumes off the ice, slamming and shoving his way back to the locker rooms. There, he strips off his uniform, growls and dents up a few lockers in his rage. And then finally, when the adrenaline suddenly dries up and he’s left empty, shaking, he collapses on the bench with the full realization of what he’s done.

\- It’s some time later that a soft knock on the door catches his attention. The game is probably over by now, he’s certain one of his teammates has come to tell him he fucked up, maybe even that he’s killed someone. But when he finally looks up, raising his head from his arms with a groan, he’s shocked to see Prompto.

\- His Prompto.

\- Gladio hasn’t cried in front of anyone in years. Not since he was a kid and broke his nose for the first time during winter tryouts. But he can’t hold back now. Prompto’s sitting down next to him, throws his arms around broad, trembling shoulders, and strokes his sweat-matted hair through it all. Gladio’s sorry, he’s so sorry, mostly because he’s certain he cost his team the game (Prompto confirms it a moment later) over what he knew was just a trick. He’s sorry, too, for showing Prompto this terrible side of him. He’s not sorry, of course, for beating the other guy to an actual bloody pulp.

\- “We all saw it,” Prompto says, his voice careful. “He was trying to get you to hit first. What did he say to you?”

\- Gladio swallows. He looks up into his boyfriend’s eyes, those sweet, summer blues full of concern. He can’t tell him. He can’t repeat those awful words when he knows how much they’ll hurt him. So he settles for shaking his head and hugging Prompto closer. “It doesn’t matter. They’re all talk.” (Although he’s pretty sure that one fucker won’t be saying much with his jaw wired shut).

\- The team is understandably pissed. Their coach, Weskham, has more than a few choice words for Gladio about conduct on the ice and the legal battles Regis is going to have to deal with because of him. The team will lose money. Gladio has to make a choice - suspension for the rest of the season, or accept the assault charges. He chooses to sit out the winter. It’s as much a blow to his ego as it is to his team.

\- But when he’s holding Prompto close that night, feeling his soft smile against his neck and his fingers in his hair, he knows it was all worth it. The next fool who makes the mistake of threatening him will end up with far more than just a broken face.


	11. Prom finds the perfect song for his new routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prompto having to find a song to give to Cor to choreograph/arrange his next routine and he's having a hard time because he wants to try something more contemporary but also he's use to Cor picking his music for him?? And just before his deadline Prompto and Gladio are in the car together or out somewhere and Gladio hears a song that he absolutely love and is his favorite and Prompto knows what he wants to skate to next" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH DEAR this ended up being a little bit of everything ^^;; Some smut, some feels, and then some sickly-sweet sap and these two being totally and crazy in love with each other. I’m sure you can guess the song once you see the lyrics, but I’ll include a link to an actual skater performing to it at the end. Kinda how I envision Prompto’s choreography

\- Gladio’s suspension from the season means that he’s got a lot of free time on his hands. Too much, in his opinion - to think, to obsess about how he could have done things differently. All the extra time is mentally exhausting, and so he fills up the extra hours that he would be at practice or games watching Prompto train instead.

\- He actually finds it eye opening. He’s been skating together with Prompto for about three months now (including before they were officially dating), mostly working on drills and speed techniques that their sports have in common. But he realizes he’s only seen the tip of the iceberg up to now - the amount of effort Prompto puts into each training session with Cor or Ignis is staggering. He pushes his body to it’s limits every time, always trying to do better, to be more perfect for his demanding coaches. Watching his competition performances, when he makes the jumps and axels and balances look  _easy_ , is nothing compared to watching him perfect each technique. It leaves Gladio impressed, humbled, and always a little turned on.

\- Okay. Maybe more than  _a little_.

\- Which is how they’ve ended up in the locker room showers together now, trying to keep their voices down just in case Cor or Iggy come looking. Gladio has Prompto pinned at the waist to the tiles behind him. The blonde is gasping, sighing around his knuckles as Gladio guides his cock between his lips. Between licks, sucks, teasing flicks to the head with his tongue, Gladio pulls off to smile up at him. “You were incredible out there today,” he praises, then swallows him down again. Prompto goes a little weak at the knees.

\- “B-but… _ahh_ …I couldn’t land that turn at the… _nnh_ , e-end.”

\- Again, those lips leave him. Gladio takes over with his hand, instead using his mouth to press kisses up Prompto’s thigh, over his hip. “Looked good enough to me, babe. What’dya call that slide-y thing you did after it?”

\- Prompto laughs, his voice soft but light. “C-cantilever. Bet you were,  _mmm_ , just staring at my crotch the whole time.”

\- “Heh. You caught me. Turn around.” He helps move Prompto until he’s facing the wall instead. One hand still languidly pumping his cock, Gladio takes one good look at his boyfriend’s body - cheeks bare, freckled, and slick with the water from the shower - and grins. “How is your ass so perfect?” Before Prompto can get a retort in, Gladio’s spreading him wide and diving in tongue first.

\- He considers it a testament to Ignis’ balance training that he doesn’t slip and fall when he comes hard against the wall of the showers. Gladio follows soon after, his own cock sliding against the small of Prompto’s back and his face buried in the side of his neck.

\- They’ve decided they’re really going to need to start keeping condoms in their lockers.

\- Later, as they’re walking together back to Prompto’s place (Gladio’s been staying there for the past week - his own place is full of hockey posters and reminders of the season he’s missing out on) the blonde is still talking about that flubbed landing at the end of practice. Even Cor hadn’t agonized this much over it, simply saying they would keep trying in the weeks leading up to his next competition. But Prompto feels like something more is off. After all, he’s done the same jump hundreds of times before without fail. “I just can’t understand what my hang-up is.”

\- “Y’think it’s the music?” Gladio catches the surprised look he’s being given and shrugs under his heavy coat. “I saw you trying to land to the beat, but maybe the timing isn’t working.”

\- Prompto feels like he’s been hit with a bucket-full of cold water. What to him was a subconscious attempt to sync his body to the song must have been so obvious to Gladio, watching from the outside. It’s something only he could have seen, and it makes Prompto want to lean up and kiss him.

\- He does.

\- “I’ll talk to Cor in the morning. He won’t be happy about changing the routine but….“ Prompto continues talking, his hands waving excitedly in the air, while Gladio guides him off the main street and into their favorite coffee shop. Stopping here has become a habit, and the barista recognizes them instantly. Without having to take their orders she starts fixing their usuals, and they grab a couple of seats to wait. Prompto’s hand is on the counter, his fingers tapping along to the beat of the music in the shop, still thinking about his choreography.

\- “You know this song?” Gladio smiles. He puts one arm around the blonde’s shoulders and pulls him a little closer.

\- “Huh? Oh, um, I don’t think so.” Prompto suddenly realizes he must have been doing it again, moving to the music without even noticing. He doesn’t know the lyrics to whatever is playing over the radio, but he likes the beat.

\- Gladio chuckles a little as his fingers move up to stroke through some of the blonde locks sticking out from under Prompto’s beanie. “I love this song. One of my favorite bands, actually. Y’know, this one kinda reminds me of you.”

\- He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, still smiling. Had anyone told him a few months ago that big, tough hockey players could be such softies, he wouldn’t have believed it. “Okay,  _why?_ ”

\- “Probably ‘cause of your hair.” From the way he’s grinning, Prompto assumes it’s some kind of insult and starts to push his arm away - but then Gladio catches him by surprise. He leans in, right up to his ear, and in time with the music in the background, begins to sing just for him.

-  _Look at the stars, look how they shine for you._

\- Prompto’s breath hitches in his throat.

-  _Everything you do. And they were all yellow._

\- He can’t move. Gladio’s voice is so gentle, so sweet in his ear, he’s simultaneously melting and frozen to the spot.

-  _Do you know, you know I love you so._

\- Is…is he really hearing this? Is this even real life?

-  _You know I love you so._

\- Prompto is blushing violently, about as red as the scarf Gladio’s wearing and staring wide-eyed into his own reflection in the polished cappuccino machine. The song is still playing, but Gladio’s stopped singing - is he waiting? Is he embarrassed after realizing what he’s just said…? But when Prompto gets up the nerve to turn and face him, Gladio is simply smiling at him, gaze warm and fingers still stroking his hair.

\- Prompto’s voice is the loudest thing in the shop when he gasps and tells Gladio that he loves him, too.

\- In the silence that follows, the barista is just about as red as Prompto - with a smile almost as wide as Gladio’s - as she clears her throat and slides their drinks across the counter.

\- That night, Prompto is up late. Like,  _really_ late. Even after Gladio passes out on the couch, Prompto is still working on his new routine. He’s got his headphones in, watching videos of other skaters on his laptop while he scribbles idea after idea in an old notebook. By the time he finishes and allows himself to curl up on Gladio’s chest, there’s only time for a couple hours of sleep. But he knows it’s going to be worth it.

\- Cor’s reaction the next day when Prompto announces he’ll be changing not only his  _entire_ routine but the song as well is…about as bad as expected. Until, that is, he sees Prompto perform. There’s a certain passion in his movements that neither he nor Ignis have ever seen before, a confidence and a sense of pride. This is  _his_ routine, these are  _his_ moves. And the song is Gladio’s.

\- Watching from the side of the rink, Gladio throws his arm around Noctis (who he’s dragged along in hopes of convincing his father to sponsor Prompto in the next competition) and swears he’s going to marry that boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song, of course, is “Yellow” by Coldplay. [Awesome inspiration video~!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Fk40qTnakk)


	12. "Specs?" (An Ignoct chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "KP- I'm crying omg, Ignis almost fighting the stranger in his bed 😂 I imagine Noctis is adamant that he's too comfy to leave and says he has nowhere to go anyways because SOME asshole named GLADIO kicked him out. Ignis softens a tiny bit but is still reluctant to let Noct stay, tho he looks harmless enough he supposes, just too sassy for his own good. Cue awkward bed sharing maybe? ;) Bonus: Ignis stretching out before bed and noct pretends to be asleep but he's watching like ?! DAMN! I'M GAY!" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are almost as bad as Promptio when it comes to being totally obvious-slash-oblivious about their mutual crushing. So I hope you enjoy this post featuring flexible Iggy and Noct’s Big Gay Awakening :3

[The night of the Grand Prix in Altissia]

\- Noctis has never been in love. He’s had flings, sure, mostly when he was in school and none of them serious. Nothing that lasted longer than a single semester. Before that, it was mostly him  _avoiding_ the people who only saw him for his name and his father’s money. At twenty, he’s already pretty sure things like love and dating just…aren’t for him.

\- Which is why he doesn’t get Gladio. Like, at all. Flying both of them across the continent just to watch Prompto skate? Noct doesn’t think he could ever feel that strongly about someone else. He really,  _really_ doesn’t get it.

\- So when Gladio tells him after the competition not to wait up, Noct rolls his eyes and makes his way to their hotel all alone. He takes the scenic route, admiring the city streets lit up at night and ordering a gelato from a vendor. But even the area near the canal is filled with couples enjoying the romantic atmosphere. Noct sighs, tosses his empty cup in a trash bin, and continues on his way.

\- If he’s expecting Gladio back at all, it certainly isn’t an hour later and with Prompto attached to his hip. They burst into the room in a flurry of laughter and kisses, almost ignoring Noct’s presence until he clears his throat from the other bed.

\- “Oh. Hey, Noct. Uh, this is Prompto -”

\- “Nice to meet you!” The blonde smiles, waves, but looks a little embarrassed as he puts a half-inch distance between him and Gladio.

\- Noct rolls his eyes again. He’s doing that a lot recently. “Yeah, hi. Are you guys gonna…need the room?”

\- Gladio’s mouth twitches. He looks at Prompto, back to Noct, down at his feet. Next to him, the blonde flushes as he reaches into his coat pocket. “Um. You can have the key to my hotel room if you -”

\- Noct is already moving. He says nothing as he snatches the card key out of Prompto’s fingers and starts down the hall toward the elevators. Behind him, the sound of the door closing follows him all the way to the lobby.

\- Luckily for him, Prompto’s hotel is only a block away - a five-star kinda place called the Leville. The room is on the tenth floor, and invitingly empty with one large bed in the center. The skater’s bags are against the far wall - he seems to travel with enough stuff for two people, at least - and there’s a spa-style tub in the bathroom. Noct considers it for a moment before his exhaustion gets the better of him and he collapses on the bed without even getting undressed.

\- He’s asleep when the door opens. A figure enters quietly, stops in the doorway to watch him. He doesn’t notice when the figure approaches, or even when a gentle hand reaches out to touch his shoulder. In fact, he doesn’t wake up until that same hand shakes him hard enough to knock him nearly off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor.

\- Noct bolts up. There’s a man standing over him - a stunningly  _beautiful_ man, his groggy mind supplies - looking about as confused as he is and somehow even angrier. Before Noct can stop himself the words are tumbling out of his mouth. “Who the fuck’re you?!”

\- Silence. That probably wasn’t the wisest choice of words if the other man’s harsh green glare is any indication, but it’s too late to take them back now. Noct waits, tense with nerves, until at last the silence is broken by the most elegant Tenebraen accent he’s ever heard. “Is that how you usually greet someone whose bed you’ve sequestered?”

\- It takes a moment before the words sink in. By then, Noct has already started babbling about how Gladio kicked him out and Prompto gave him the key and he doesn’t know who this guy thinks he is but this is  _his_ room now and –

\- The man cuts him off with a sigh. “I should have suspected those two. What did you say your name was?”

\- “Nocti – Noct. Just Noct.”

-  _Gods_ , this man has spectacular eyebrows. “Well,  _just Noct._  I suppose kicking you out now would only make me as bad as them. You can stay, but forgive me for asking for the use of my bed?” Noct blushes. He actually _fucking blushes_  at the thought of his beautiful man falling asleep next to him, this stranger who hasn’t even bothered to give his name. It isn’t until he slides over to make room that he realizes the man is gesturing to the  _chair_ in the corner. Oh.  _Oh_.

\- He’s certainly slept in less comfortable positions, but he can’t help feeling all of this is Gladio’s fault. If it weren’t for him and his stupid crush, Noct thinks, he would still be back home in his own room, with his own bed and his video games. He wouldn’t be curled up in a worn armchair with a thin blanket tucked around his shoulders, simultaneously trying to fall back asleep and keep watching the show across the room. He thinks the man must be a skater like Prompto because  _damn_ he’s flexible - stretching on the floor at the foot of the bed, one leg straight out behind him and the other in front, his body pressed flat against it as his fingers curl around his heel. Then a smooth transition into a side split, his sleep pants leaving little to the imagination when he twists and arcs his back. Noctis wonders if the man knows how good he looks. If perhaps he’s doing this on purpose to torture him, as if Gladio and Prompto hadn’t done enough. Either way, it isn’t fair - and it makes his cramped position in the chair even  _less_ comfortable (although perhaps trying to hide his boner in the bed would have been worse)

\- He swears he’s never going to forgive Gladio for any of this.

[The next morning]

\- Ignis finds his guest still sleeping when he gets out of the shower in the morning. While he dresses, he finds himself studying the young man curled up under his sheet in the chair. He appears to be no older than Prompto, around nineteen or twenty. Attractive (he tries to ignore that). A student, perhaps? Although he claimed the night before to be an acquaintance of Gladio’s, he certainly doesn’t strike Ignis as having the build of a hockey player. He does, however, seem like someone who has secrets.

\- If there’s one thing Ignis hates, it’s not knowing something.

\- He slips out of the room as quietly as he can, but the mystery continues to eat at him all morning. Even after he checks out at the front desk (hoping Noct will find his way home before he’s carted off with the linens), Ignis can’t seem to reign in his thoughts. Why, for example, wouldn’t Noct give him his full name? What was it he was hiding? And why had he looked so disappointed when he’d been kicked out of the bed? Ignis chalks his curiosity up to the strangeness of the whole situation, and tries his best not to mention the young man in front of Prompto once they arrive at the airport.

[Several days later:]

\- “Oh, hey! Gladio says he can make it after all!” Prompto’s looking at his phone again, for at least the dozenth time since Ignis first told him to put it away and concentrate. At this point, he can only give up trying and plop down next to the blonde on the mat.

\- “Wonderful. As if you weren’t already distracted enough this evening.”

\- Prompto smiles and pats his knee. “He’s bringing you coffee to make up for it.”

\- “Well, I suppose that’s something.”

\- What Prompto fails to mention is that Gladio isn’t coming alone. He’s dragged his friend with him again, and the moment Noct walks through the door carrying a bag of take-out lattes, Ignis loses the capacity for rational thought. Everything he’s been trying to ignore since Altissia (those deep blue eyes, that perpetual hint of  _something_ tugging at the corners of Noct’s mouth, the inexplicable obsession/attraction he’s felt toward the kid) come back in full force.  And  _still_ Ignis knows next to nothing about him!

\- He doesn’t realize he’s been staring until Noct shifts uncomfortably and reaches in the bag to pull out one of the steaming hot coffees. “Nice t’see you again. Gladio said you, uh, like double shots?”

\- “Oh. Yes, I do. Thank you. Er - “ Reaching out for the gift, he can’t help but notice the “name” scrawled across the side of the cup in black marker. “‘ _Specs_ ’?”

\- Noct flushes as his eyes somehow grow ever more beautiful. “O-oh. I didn’t…. I mean, you never told me your name, and Gladio said I should…ask you myself….” (Nearby, Gladio is grinning and whispering something in Prompto’s ear until the blonde’s mirth grows to match) “U-um, I hope you don’t hate it. T-the nickname, I mean. It’s ‘cause of your glasses, y’know, and - “

\- “Ignis.” He clears his throat when Noct blushes again. “My name is Ignis Scientia. I apologize for my apparent lapse in manners when we met in Altissia.”

\- “Yeah, um, me too.” (Gladio and Prompto are, if possible, being more obnoxious than before. Prompto’s  _actually filming_  this with his phone while Gladio shoots him the thumbs up from over Ignis’ shoulder). “I’m Noctis. But Noct is fine.” And now Ignis is smiling at him - it’s subtle, more in the way his eyes soften than the barely-visible curve of his lips - but Noct thinks it’s completely unfair how gorgeous he looks when he does it.

\- “Thank you for the coffee, Noct.” Ignis takes a sip (is it wrong to be jealous of a plastic cup lid??) and gestures for him to have a seat next to Gladio on the mat. Noctis watches for over an hour in awe, unable to tear his eyes off Ignis while he limbers up, runs Prompto through their basic drills, and eventually demonstrates a new beam technique that shows off both his flawless flexibility and his impressive upper body strength.

\- Halfway through, Gladio leans in and with a knowing grin, tells him to pick his jaw up off the floor.


	13. Noct is in way over his head (Another Ignoct chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "KP- noctis tagging along to watch Prompto and Ignis train and Noctis watches Ignis contort himself into some wicked pose and he just reaches over to Gladio and grasps his arm like "holy shit....I'm gay" and Gladio starts wheezing, earning them a stern glare from Ignis which only makes Noct all [heart eyes] even more. He starts showing up even earlier to watch Ignis run through his floor routines, mesmerized by his jumps and flips. Ignis pretends to not notice he's there but he totally knows :3c" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol this ended up a little bit different from the prompt, but I think I got the gist of it at least. Noct is totally in love and Ignis is pretty aware of it. Gladio and Prompto ship IgNoct so hard right now. Enjoy!!

\- When Gladio first asks Noct to start joining him at Prompto’s practices, he hesitates. It isn’t like he has much better to do with his time unless his father needs his help at the company (he rarely does), but he also isn’t sure he can stand being around the two of them for extended periods. Apart, they’re both pretty cool guys (well, Gladio has his moments, he supposes). But together they’re outright obnoxious. Holding hands,  _looking at each other_. Smiling. Couples stuff. It makes Noct feel like a third skate.

\- But Gladio is determined to convince him. He hopes to get his father’s company to sponsor Prompto in the next competition, and he knows Noct is his golden ticket. “C’mon, it’s not like you’ll be alone. Prom’s coaches’ll be there, too.  _Ignis_ will be there.”

\- Noct shoots him a flat look. “So?”

-  _“So?_  You like him, right?” There’s no answer to that, both because Noct doesn’t feel the need to indulge Gladio, and also because he hasn’t quite figured it out for himself yet. “Come today, and if you have a horrible time I won’t push anymore.”

\- Somehow, Noctis doesn’t really believe that last bit, but he shrugs and tags along anyway. And he’s not disappointed. While Prompto is warming up on the ice with Cor, Ignis joins them rinkside to watch. He takes the open seat next to Noct (who unconsciously scoots closer to Gladio until his friend shoves him back over) and starts up an amicable conversation while they wait. “So Noctis. Do you skate, as well?”

\- His eyes are on Noct now, analyzing, studying him. “M-me? Nah, I’m not really into sports.”

\- This answer seems to surprise Ignis. He glances at Gladio, then back at Noct. “Really? How is it you’re friends with so many athletes then?”

\- Noctis avoids telling him that Gladio - and more recently, Prompto - are pretty much his  _only_ friends, but also hesitates in giving him a straight answer. In his experience, once people find out who he is (or rather, who his father is), they tend not to look at him the same way. “Uh, just unlucky I guess.”

\- Ignis blinks, then laughs. _He actually laughs,_ and it’s such a rich, beautiful sound that Noctis nearly melts out of his seat. Behind him, Gladio snorts at the reply, but he’s suddenly more interested in watching Prompto again so he misses it when Ignis lays a delicate hand on Noct’s leg and flashes him a smile.

\- “Then I, for one, am glad your bad luck has brought us together.”

\-  He says something. It might be a stammered  _so am I,_ or it might be a much less intelligible concoction of sounds as his brain shuts down as one. Lights go out in every part not necessary for processing Ignis’ words, which have suddenly become the center of his world. His chest is tight. His stomach is doing somersaults. His throat is dry and his eyes are probably as wide as a chocobo’s in headlights. Yeah, he’s got it bad.

\- It isn’t until Prompto calls up to Ignis from the rink, summoning him over to start his routine, that Noctis regains his composure. By then the music is starting and Prompto is skating to the center of the ice. Noct is supposed to be watching - this is why Gladio brought him here, after all - yet he can’t focus on anything but the back of Ignis’ head as he leans against the rink wall. From somewhere next to him he hears Gladio gasp, a low, reverent sound. “It’s my song,” he says, slowly getting to his feet. “Prom, I…. Shit. I’m gonna marry him.”

\- “Me, too,” Noct whispers at Ignis’ back, and is surprised to realize he means it.


	14. Sex on the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gladio likes to test out how flexible Prom is from all of his training. This may or may not include sex in various locations which in any other world would be crude and indecent. Prom may have a praise kink." (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you say sex on the ice? I heard sex on the ice.

\- He shouldn’t be staring. At least, that’s what the little voice in his head is telling him, anyway. The other voice, the one in his dick, is telling him that Prompto is his boyfriend and they’ve been sleeping together for a couple months now and he’s allowed to stare if he wants to.

\- And honestly, it would almost be insulting  _not_ to admire his body. Toned yet soft around the edges, long limbs and a sleek back, with an ass sculpted by the hands of the gods themselves. And to top it all off, the skater is  _flexible_. Gladio knows it, had known it even before they started dating and he finally learned first-hand just how far Prompto can bend and twist. How good his ass looks when his legs are spread out perfectly to the sides during his yoga routine. Or how mind-blowing it is to watch his dick slide down his throat when Prompto blows him in camel pose.

\- Which is why it’s almost unfair watching him now, stretching at the side of the rink, body perpendicular to the wall while his legs butterfly out behind him. Any self-respecting person would keep their less-than-wholesome thoughts to themselves. They certainly wouldn’t walk right up to him, grab his ankle in one hand and his thigh in the other, and thrust their hips right up against the inviting mounds of his ass.

\- Which is, in fact, exactly what Gladio does. 

\- “H-hey! Gladdy!” Prompto flushes, arcs back to glare at his boyfriend (thankfully no one else is at the rink that morning, so he knows immediately who to blame) and tries to pull away. “I’m in the middle of warm ups!”

\- Gladio grins. He eases Prompto’s ankle forward slightly until he hears him gasp at the extended stretch, then once more rubs his half-hard erection against him. “And I’m here to help. Need assistance loosening anything else?”

\- His cheeks are bright red, but Gladio doesn’t miss the microsecond of consideration he puts into his answer. “You’re terrible,” he mumbles, and lowers his leg back down the moment Gladio releases him. “Put your skates on.”

\- For the past few days, they’ve been coming to the rink together early again. Prompto claimed that it gives him extra time to practice before jumping into his sessions with Cor, but in actuality he just wants to coax Gladio back out onto the ice. He’s been avoiding skating since his suspension, something about bad memories leaving an even worse taste in his mouth. Prompto, however, knows that if he doesn’t face his fears and get back in the rink, he’ll risk losing his passion for it forever.

\- And, if he’s allowed to be selfish (and he thinks he is, considering Gladio is his boyfriend and they’ve been skating together for months now), he misses him.

\- “But babe….”

\- “No buts.” Cutting Gladio off swiftly with a well-aimed kiss, Prompto pulls his ace in the hole. His smile is promising, almost as promising as the hand that slides down to squeeze Gladio through his pants. “Put on your skates and I’ll make it worth your while.”

\- That little voice in Gladio’s head shuts right the hell up. The other one, the one in his dick, is shouting.

\- Skates on, he’s soon following Prompto out of the gate and onto the fresh ice. To his initial disappointment, Prompto seems to be making a game out of staying just out of reach. He waits for Gladio to come close enough to touch him, then flashes a coy smile and pushes off with one foot to glide another couple meters across the ice. Again and again, until Gladio is borderline frustrated and also really,  _really_ hard in his pants. They’ve probably done at least one full lap around the rink by now, and he has yet to get so much as a kiss.

\- Then Prompto comes to a sudden and complete halt. It’s all Gladio can do to brake in time ( _toepick, toepick!!_ ). He slides to a gentle stop against Prompto’s back, left almost breathless in awe at the perfect contact after so much chasing. And then, as soon as their bodies are flush, Prompto starts moving again. This time, he reaches back and holds Gladio around the waist, leans comfortably into his solid chest and pulls him along into a slow, lazy glide.

\- This is new. This is  _sexy_. All the times they’ve skated together, they’ve never been _this close_ on the ice. Gladio can feel the muscles in Prompto’s glutes pressing against his erection, and the fingers on his lower back squeezing, kneading his flesh through his shirt. Prompto’s body is hot despite the chill of the rink. He smells like exertion and restraint, and when Gladio slides his hands down the front of his body to feel his hardening cock, he can suddenly sense his need, too.

\- “This seems… _unsafe_ ,” he grins, not at all intending to stop now. Thankfully, from the way Prompto rolls up into the touch, it’s clear he isn’t, either.

\- “Then don’t slip.”

\- Gladio has never been more grateful for all those years of balance drills. Keeping his hips flush with Prompto’s ass, he leans his upper body forward against the blonde’s weight. Through the thin fabric of his leggings, Prompto’s cock stirs, jolts against Gladio’s palm, gradually growing the longer he strokes him.

\- But it isn’t enough, not for either of them. Soon Prompto is spinning around to face Gladio instead, drawing him into a kiss as their bodies readjust. One skate between Gladio’s feet, he swings his other leg to hook over his hip - Gladio catches it easily, grins into the kiss and holds him in place as he takes control. He finds it surprisingly easy to guide them forward. Gladio focuses on skating, slow and languid around the rink, while Prompto works on unraveling them both. The swaying of their hips matches the motions of Gladio’s powerful thighs, their cocks rub and slide together through their clothes with just enough friction to make them both crave the heat of skin on skin.

\- Prompto’s fingers work their magic. He slides down Gladio’s zipper with practiced ease, finds his way to the opening in the boxers beneath. Draws him out into the cool air (Gladio shudders against his mouth) before starting on his own clothing. His leggings soon end up around his hips, leaving him exposed in both the front and the back. With his free hand, Gladio reaches down to squeeze the perfect curves of his ass in tandem with Prompto beginning to stroke them both.

\- They’re gliding around the rink on autopilot now. Swallowing each other’s gasps, moans, panted breaths as Prompto’s fist flies over heated skin. Gladio’s cock is pulsing hard, already glistening and slick with the precum spread by Prom’s fingers. The thrill, the tease of the chase, his boyfriend’s body so close, and now this - Gladio isn’t going to last, he can tell. It’s taking most of his concentration to keep them both upright and balanced, and his body is quickly losing the battle to Prompto’s skill.

\- “ _Fuck_ , ‘s good, baby,” he groans, lowering his face to the curve of that slender neck. His hand on Prompto’s ass squeezes again, the one under his knee helps to draw him in closer. “’m gonna cum, can’t hold it back….”

\- Soft lips brush against his ear as the fingers around him tighten. “ _Mmm_ , yeah. Please, Gladio.”

\- Another groan, low and unbidden, as a little more of his resolve breaks. He tries to steady himself against the wave of tremors traveling through his body, tries to fight the way his hips keep bucking into Prompto’s touch. It’s too much. Too perfect. The coil inside him snaps and his legs wobble as his orgasm crashes through him.

\- Somehow they manage to stay standing, somehow Prompto manages to lower his leg from Gladio’s grip, and somehow Gladio manages to find his breath. Soft lips are curved into a smile and pressed against his temple. Between their hips, Prompto is still stroking himself, slow and unhurried, enjoying the feel of Gladio’s sex spreading warmth over his skin. “Need a break, big guy?”

\- Amber eyes flash. Gladio is suddenly smirking as, without warning, he wraps his arms around Prompto and half-carries him over to the edge of the rink. The blonde gasps when he’s lifted off the ice, up onto the wall where Gladio deposits him, then watches in amazement as his boyfriend drops to his knees.

\- The ice is cold beneath him, but Gladio hardly notices. His focus is on Prompto, on his cock red and throbbing in his lap. On the sounds that pour from his lips when Gladio takes the head into his mouth, and on the taste and heat of his need filling his senses. He works efficiently, using every technique he’s learned to unravel Prompto in seconds. Tongue, lips, little puffs of air and humming every time that hard length slides into his throat. When Prom’s fingers tighten desperately in his hair Gladio knows he’s nearing the edge, and so he doubles his efforts, sucking him back harder, deeper, faster.

\- Prompto comes so hard he nearly topples off the wall and onto his back (his hands clutching at Gladio’s hair and shirt are what save him).

\- Gladio swallows down every drop, makes sure to drag his tongue over the tip several times to make sure he’s gotten it all, before finally pulling away with a dull grin.

\- They sit together at the edge of the rink for a while like that. Hand in hand, Prompto slowly tracing the lines that run across Gladio’s palm and smiling at nothing in particular. Gladio with his lips pressed to the top of Prompto’s hair while he breathes him in, perfectly content to never have to move again.

\- But their morning session is almost up, and soon the privacy of the moment will be gone. Realizing it, Gladio pulls Prompto closer against his chest, and lets his fingers stroke absently through silky blonde locks. “What time is Cor coming today?”

\- A shrug. Prompto settles comfortably into his arms as he drops his head onto Gladio’s shoulder. “Don’t remember. I can text him, why?”

\- “Got time for a coffee?”

\- “With you?” he smiles. “Always. What’s the occasion?”

\- “Nothing special.” The way his arms tighten around Prompto’s waist tell him that’s a lie. “I just want you all to myself a little longer.”

\- Prompto slips off the rink wall, his skates hitting the ice with a  _clack_ before he spins around and offers Gladio a hand down. “In that case, I’ll take the day off.” Gladio opens his mouth to protest - he’s got a competiton coming up, he can’t afford to waste time - but then Prom’s pulling him into a kiss and spiraling them both across the rink. “Not in the mood, anyway. I’m feeling kinda distracted today.”

\- There’s no point in arguing. Gladio smiles and throws an arm around his shoulders as he guides him toward the locker rooms. “Maybe after coffee, we can go back to my place, then? To, uh, y’know. Rest.” 

\- “And fuck.”

\- They reach the edge of the rink, and the second Prompto’s skates are off, Gladio’s lifting him up into his arms again. “You read my mind, babe.” In the flurry of kisses, caresses, and filthy promises whispered in his ear, it’s all Prompto can do to remember to send Cor a quick text - the  _last_ thing he needs is an angry coach showing up to ruin his date night.


	15. Perfectly flawed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sex with a broken ankle was amazing. Cor as coach is awesome!! Now what about Cor allowing Gladio in the box during one of Prompto competitions? Warning Gladio about Prompto needing a lot of attention and perhaps how important Prompto is to Cor?" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’re ready for some Prompto backstory! Warning right now for mentions of self harm and eating disorders - please read with caution. I promise it’s fluffy though!!!

\- With less than a month left before his next big competition - and the debut of his new routine - Prompto is working harder than ever. He’s at the rink nearly every day, practicing the same sections of his performance over and over until he’s convinced he could do the jumps in his sleep.

\- Even still, his coaches refuse to go easy on him. Cor, especially, pushes him during training, never quite satisfied no matter how perfect Prompto’s movements might seem. According to him, now that Prom’s won gold in the Altissian Grand Prix, people are going to expect him to perform like a champion. He’s still got a long way to go.

\- Gladio doesn’t understand it. Prompto leaves the rink exhausted most days, so tired he can barely carry his bags (Gladio, of course, is there to bear the burden in his stead). But aside from the physical repercussions (which have left a dent in their normally energetic sex life), it’s put a damper on Prompto’s mood, too. He smiles less and sighs more, gets angry with himself over little things even off the ice. The stress is getting to him in a very obvious way, and nothing Gladio does seems to take the edge off (he’s tried everything, from massages to bubble baths to lazy blowjobs, but while the pampering works temporarily, Prompto’s mind is always right back on work afterwards). Before Prompto totally caves under the pressure, Gladio decides to take the problem right to the source.

\- Cor is a scary dude. Besides being Prompto’s coach and holding the authority of a world champion athlete, he also does this thing with his eyes that can chill a man right to the core. It doesn’t help that from their few interactions to date, Gladio’s pretty sure Cor hates his guts. Not only is he fucking Prompto (which, of course, Cor has witnessed first hand), but ever since his suspension Gladio’s been a constant  ~~distraction~~  presence at the rink. Cor rarely speaks to him, hardly even acknowledges him sitting there unless he’s somehow getting in the way. So even for a hockey player, it takes a lot of guts to approach him first.

\- The opportunity comes that very weekend. Ignis has joined them that day at the rink to help Prompto gain lift during his final jump in the routine. While he and the skater are discussing techniques, Cor is wide open on the bench. He looks understandably surprised when Gladio takes a seat right next to him.

\- “Do you think he’s got a chance?” he asks by way of preamble. If he keeps the topic focused on the competition, he thinks, it might be easier to get Cor to talk.

\- A moment passes while the older man sizes him up. “Maybe,” he answers at last. “That depends on Prompto. Why, has he been worried?”

\- “Not exactly.” Gladio keeps his eyes focused on his boyfriend now doing figure eights on the ice. Watching him keeps Gladio from having to meet Cor’s gaze. “But I think he’s been pushing himself too hard. He can’t focus on anything else lately.”

\- “That’s what it takes if he’s going to place in the next tournament. He’s going to have to want it with every fiber of his being, or he’s going to lose.” Even without looking, he can feel Cor’s eyes boring into him. “As an athlete yourself, I would have thought you’d understand that.”

\- “I do,” Gladio answers quickly, swallowing. Why the hell does talking to this guy always make him feel like he’s being drilled by Prompto’s own dad?? “I do understand. I just, uh. Y’know, I thought that maybe - as his coach - you could go a little…easier on him?” This time he does turn to meet Cor’s gaze, and the intensity of it makes him instantly regret even bringing up the conversation.

\- “Do you really know so little about him?”

\- Gladio blinks, caught off guard.

\- “There’s a reason Prompto hired me as his coach. All the others he had were too soft on him, but he knew I wouldn’t ever back down.”

\- “Sir?”

\- “No one is harder on Prompto than he is on himself. I could try to convince him that he’s already the best, but he would never believe me anyway.” Cor gestures to the rink, where Prompto is once again running through his entire routine. “He’s here every day because he knows he needs to be. He trains himself because he knows there are better skaters out there, and that every wasted moment is a step further from the top. But more than that, he’s here because he forces himself to be. Not me, not Ignis.  _Him_.”

\- For a moment, Gladio isn’t sure what to say. He lets Cor’s words sink in, and realizes that  _damn_ , that does sound a lot like Prompto. The little things start to come together - all of Prompto’s self-deprecating jokes, the way he laughs off compliments and praise, his insistence that despite his successful career he’s just a ‘normal kinda guy.’ Gladio is starting to see the bigger picture for the first time. As someone who has never struggled with his own self-image (Gladio knows his strengths and weaknesses, and his confidence is proportional to the amount of hard work he puts in), recognizing the signs in someone else is hardly second nature. Even when that someone happens to be the love of his life.

\- Suddenly, he feels like maybe Cor has a point about him not knowing Prom as well as he thought.

\- “Has he always been so tough on himself?”

\- A sigh. “To look at him now, you wouldn’t think that just a few years ago he was too thin to compete.” Cor’s voice is so steady that Gladio does a mental double take. He glances out at Prompto, with his slender arms raised above his head, the hem of his sweatshirt pulled up to reveal a pale, toned midriff beneath. The body of a dedicated athlete.

\- “Too  _thin_ …?”

\- “When I first met Prompto, he hardly ate. Half an apple, maybe some yogurt. Mostly he seemed to survive on coffee and sugar-free gum. But he was a wreck for it, and only a few pounds away from putting himself in the hospital.”

\- Gladio shakes his head. “That’s not possible. I’ve seen him eat. He’s careful, sure, but nothing like - “

\- “Not anymore.” With a shrug, Cor gets to his feet. Ignis is gesturing for him to rejoin them rinkside - Prompto is smiling and finally kicking off his skates. “It was fear of losing his career - not his life - if he continued like that. Prompto puts  _everything_ above himself. And that’s why I stay, and why I support him.” He turns to throw a glance at Gladio over his shoulder, the corners of his mouth turned down in a slight frown. “If we don’t look after him, no one will.”

-  _We_. The depth of the word echoes through Gladio’s mind as he watches Cor walk away. Over to pat Prompto on the shoulder and tell him they’ll try again tomorrow. Gladio feels like he can’t breathe. He feels like he’s seeing Prom for the first time - his bright, beautiful eyes, his smile tinged with humility, his fingers sliding nervously back through his hair. His soul runs deep, deeper than Gladio had ever even considered, and there’s so much there that he has yet to explore.

\- He realizes, in that moment, that Cor’s words were meant to be a challenge. Stick by his side through the good times  _and_ the bad. Either prove himself worthy of Prompto’s love, or don’t waste his time.

\- It’s the easiest trial he’s ever had to face in his life.

\- Gladio is moving across the floor, closing the distance between himself and Prompto. Both of the coaches are still there, but Gladio ignores them as he walks right up and pulls the blonde into a full-body kiss. Ignis stops mid-sentence. Cor takes a step back. And Prompto…. Prompto lets his surprised squeak dissolve into a moan, practically melting on the spot like ice on a summer’s day.

\- When Gladio at last pulls back, he finds himself staring down into the most adoring, sky-blue pools in the world. “Lemme take you out tonight,” Gladio smiles, still ignoring the two men standing frozen on other side of them. Prompto can only grin in total confusion.

\- “O-okay?”

\- “Pizza, then ice cream. Sound good?”

\- “S-sure, but…. Why?”

\- Gladio leans forward again, presses rough kisses to his neck, his jaw, up to the rim of his ear to feel Prompto shudder in his arms. “Because you’ve earned it. Because you’re perfect.”

\- While Prompto flushes several shades of pink, Ignis rolls his eyes and, having given up entirely on the conversation, retreats to the benches to collect his bags. Cor, however, folds his arms over his chest and flashes Gladio the subtlest of approving smiles.


	16. World's biggest dorks (Yet another Ignoct chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Noctis watching Ignis perform in a professional event for the first time and being absolutely floored by how graceful and strong Ignis is, making everything look completely effortless. He knows Noctis is watching and shows off just a tiny bit and earns himself almost perfect scores in all his events" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, since Ignis doesn’t compete I changed it a youth sports charity event, and instead of perfect scores, he wins a prince’s heart instead. 
> 
> Just in time for a little holiday magic, I present you with “Noct and Iggy are total dorks and bond over sports cars and bad puns”

\- It starts with a text from Prompto, of all people. Noct is definitely glad they’ve started hanging out (Prom is into all the same video games and comics, is easy to talk to and a lot of fun), but he’s even worse than Gladio when it comes to teasing him about his crush on Ignis. Prompto’s known Iggy for a long time, works with him almost everyday, and recently started sending Noct stealthy photos snapped during training - Iggy stretching, Iggy standing, Iggy sitting on the bleachers. One particular pic was nothing but a close up of Iggy’s ass as he bent over the mat (followed by emojis of a peach and an eggplant which Noct isn’t sure he  _wants_ to understand). This routine seems to be Prompto’s way of helping out his new friend, and Noct both loves and hates him for it.

\- But this time is different. There’s no photo attached to the message he’s sent, but it still gets Noct’s heart racing all the same. He reads it again, and again, just to be sure he isn’t dreaming.

_> > Gladdy’s taking me to Lestallum for the festival this weekend! <3 Can’t see Iggy’s performance, do u want my tix?????_

\- He’s been hearing about the event all week. It’s an local youth sports competition to raise money during the holidays, and apparently Ignis has been asked to be the opening performer. According to Prompto and Gladio, he’s been working hard to debut a new technique for the event. Now Noct is being offered a ticket up close and personal. He would have to be crazy to refuse.

\- It turns out, though, that the seat is more ‘up close and personal’ than he expected. When he arrives at the arena on the day of the event, Ignis is already there and occupying the chair next to where Noctis is supposed to be sitting. Upon seeing him, Noct nearly loses his nerve completely. He looks  _good_ in a pair of long white pants over a tight-fitting blue-and-black leotard. Too good, in fact. There is _no way_ he can do this! But before he can turn and run, Ignis spots him, smiles, and pats the open chair.  _He’s pretty much doomed._

\- “Ah, Noct. I was wondering who Prompto would send in his place. Thank you for coming.”

\- “Uh, yeah. N-no problem.” Noct swallows as he takes the seat, meets Iggy’s gaze fleetingly before staring down at his boots. “I heard you’re, like, a guest of honor or something?” He tries to smile, but his nerves get the better of it and it probably ends up as more of a cringe.

\- Luckily, Ignis doesn’t seem bothered by it. “Well, something like that. I’m a bit out of practice, though, so don’t get your hopes up.” He follows this with a wink that makes Noctis very glad he’s already sitting down. Fortunately, he doesn’t get a chance to respond (he would have just said something totally lame, anyway, like _I’m sure you’ll find a way to impress me_ ) because suddenly they’re being approached by an energetic young woman with curly blond hair and a headset.

\- “Sorry t’innerupt, fellas. Mr. Scientia, we’re ready for ya to get set up now.”

\- “Thank you, Cindy. Noct,” he smiles as he gets to his feet. “I trust you’ll be watching?”

-  _Of course, I can’t take my eyes off you._  Noctis clears his throat, forces a polite nod. “You bet, Specs.”

\- When Ignis turns to follow Cindy back to the locker rooms, he has a certain lightness in his step that wasn’t there before. Without even realizing it, he’s smiling. Cindy, who is in charge of the local youth sports center and therefore that day’s events, has known Iggy long enough to notice both. “So who’s yer new beau?” she asks with a sly wink. Ignis refuses to meet her gaze.

\- “A friend of Prompto, or rather, of Prompto’s boyfriend. I’ll admit I don’t know him very well yet.”

\- “Well, maybe after t’day that’ll change.” They enter the locker room, and the din of the arena fades behind them. “Are ya still planning to show us somethin’ we ain’t never seen before?”

\- Ignis doesn’t answer right away. He’s been working on his new move for a couple of weeks - an acrobatic-style twist off the bars at the end of his routine - but he isn’t sure he’s quite ready for it. With all the extra time he’s spent at the ice rink with Prompto, there hasn’t been much chance for him to practice alone. If he attempts it now, there’s a chance he might mess up - or worse, injure himself. But next to him Cindy is waiting for an answer, so he smiles, pats her hand, and offers a noncommittal  _We’ll see_.

\- Out in the arena, the music starts. Cindy rushes off to MC the event, and after a brief (but far-too flattering) introduction, Ignis steps out to a roar of applause. He wonders fleetingly if Noct is clapping, too, and the thought puts a rare, genuine smile on his face. Perhaps Cindy is right - this may be his chance to impress him, to get closer to him and finally unravel his mysteries.

\- Perhaps over coffee. Or wine. Yes, definitely wine. And a nice dinner. Would Noct appreciate a good Tenebraen roast?

\- Ignis nearly laughs aloud when he catches himself. Of all the things tobe thinking about at a time like this…. Shaking his head, he turns to the mat - there are three bars set up, each at different heights and spaced far enough apart for him to easily maneuver between them. At Cindy’s cue, he clears his mind, powders his gloves, and takes a deep breath at the edge of the mat. Then, to the sound of the audience’s cheers, he starts forward. A brisk run, keeping his knees bent and his back straight, pivots into his jump and grabs onto the first bar with both hands. It’s smooth, appears effortless and that, Ignis knows, is the most important illusion. More cheers fill the air as he begins to swing himself, using his long legs to build momentum until he’s able to jump to the next bar.

\- Somewhere in the crowd, he hopes Noct’s heart is racing.

\- Iggy continues his performance, flipping and spinning in the air as he jumps from one bar to the next and back again, so many times that the audience falls silent in awe. Everything is perfect, every twist of his lithe body, every precise move that has him latching onto his next target without fail. And then, just as he he’s feeling his limbs begin to tire, he nears the end of the routine. One last jump has him landing with both hands on the tallest of the three bars. His movements slow, then he gradually builds them up again, swinging faster and faster until he’s nearly spinning in a full arc. The next part is tricky - he needs to turn himself around at the very top, releasing the bar in mid-swing with one hand while pushing off with the other to send him twirling upwards through the air. In practice he’s only managed to succeed a handful of times, but….

\- He has to try. Hundreds of eyes are watching. Noct is watching. Without much time to debate the risks, Ignis throws himself into the final move. From somewhere in the arena he can hear Cindy’s excited voice announcing the debut of a special technique, the moment they’ve all been waiting for. Ignis grits his teeth - he’s almost at the right momentum, just a few more swings -  _there_. At the top of the bar he lets go and his arm flies out wide. At the same time, he tries to turn his other hand - but something is wrong. His fingers are slipping away until there’s nothing left to grip. The bar is gone from his reach and instead of pushing off, Ignis is suddenly falling, falling.

\- He hits the mat with a  _thud_ and the crowd gasps in unison. Even Cindy’s voice trembles into the microphone, and then she’s running.

\- Noct is faster. He reaches Ignis just at the gymnast is sitting up, wincing and hugging his left arm to his chest. Blue eyes go wide. “H-hey, don’t move. Just stay still.” Iggy looks at him, face red with embarrassment and pain, but he nods. Noct kneels down at his side, puts an arm around his shoulders for support as Cindy and some of the other staff finally arrive.

\- “You okay, Mr. S?!”

\- “Help me get him to the locker room.” Noct gestures for her to grab his other arm, and together they walk him off the mats. Someone else takes over as MC to keep the crowd from panicking at the show going, but the din of it is lost as soon as they’re out of the arena.

\- “I’m fine, really. Both of you, please.” But Noct’s hold on him is firm, not letting go even after they’ve sat him down on a bench and Cindy’s rushed off to get him some water and painkillers.

\- “Can I see it?” Ignis swallows. His wrist is throbbing with pain - he must have landed right on it when he fell - but he cautiously extends it out for Noct to take a look. Gentle fingers stroke over his swollen wrist, press just enough to make him wince but quickly pull back. “It doesn’t look broken. Probably sprained, but we’d better get you to a doctor. Do you mind…?” Noct pulls out his phone and, at a wary nod from Ignis, sends a quick text. Then Cindy comes back with water and aspirin, and Noct announces that he’ll be driving Iggy to a clinic.

-  _Driving? Clinic?_ There’s a half-formed protest on his lips but then Cindy is shoving a plastic cup between them and he’s powerless to argue. He waits for Noct to bring his car around back, then is carefully helped outside to it.

\- If he thought Noct was an enigma before, now he’s thoroughly mired. The ‘car’ turns out to be a sleek, brand new, limited edition Audi R8 (Ignis has only ever  _dreamed_ of owning such a beautiful machine) and yet Noct somehow still manages to drive it like it doesn’t cost half a million dollars. He’s glad they’re going to a hospital because he’s convinced they’re going to need one with the way Noct takes each turn - but somehow (mostly due to quick thinking by other drivers) they manage to arrive in one piece. The pills Cindy gave him have kicked in by now, and Ignis is able to walk up to reception with only a little assistance.

\- The young clerk automatically gives him a large stack of forms to fill out and tells him to take a number. One look around the waiting room tells him they’ll likely be there a while, but just as he turns to tell Noct that he should go, he sees the dark-haired young man already stalking up to the counter. “Dr. Yaegre is already expecting us,” he says. “Let her know we’re here.”

\- Ignis looks as surprised as the clerk looks unimpressed. “Kid, we’re a hospital, not a nightclub. I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just - “

\- “I’m Noctis Lucis Caelum and technically, I own this place. Call Dr. Yaegre and tell her we’re here.”

\- There’s this little sound that Ignis makes in his throat. He isn’t sure what to call it - not a gasp, not a sigh, something more  _awed_. He stares at Noct in sudden silence as the clerk hurries to get the phone.  _Lucis Caelum_ …. That makes Noct the son of Regis Caelum, the most powerful man in Insomnia and the owner of the Insomnia Kings hockey team. Which helps to explain the car and the company he keeps. It also, Iggy supposes, explains the way he’s so good at taking command, carrying himself very much indeed like the heir to a powerful family. But perhaps more than that, more than the pain his wrist and the whirlwind of the entire situation, Ignis finds himself left speechless by Noct’s sheer  _dominance_. It is frankly the most arousing thing he’s ever seen, and it leaves him weaker at the knees than he was when they first walked in.

\- The doctor is a lovely woman. Tells Ignis to call her Sania, hugs Noct as if he were her own son, and gestures them both to follow her down the hall. Several x-rays and tests later, she’s confirmed that Ignis’ wrist isn’t broken, but it is sprained, and quite badly. She’s going to have to splint it, and he’ll have to take a break from sports for at least a month, maybe more. The news isn’t as devastating to Ignis as he might have expected, perhaps because through it all he’s got Noct’s hand in his, giving him little reassuring squeezes as the doctor speaks. Although he knows this isn’t what Cindy intended, it seems she was right about this being his big chance after all.

\- Sania leaves them to call a nurse for his splint. In her wake, Noct lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Ignis. What are you going to do for a whole month?”

\- “I’ll manage. It will give me more time to focus on Prompto’s competition, at least.”

\- They both smile. “Anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?”

\- “I’ve been accused once or twice in my life,  _Mr. Caelum._ ” The use of his name has Noct wincing, which is…unexpected. Ignis frowns and reaches once more for his hand out of reflex. “…Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you feel you needed to hide who you really are?”

\- “It’s just…. I don’t know.” With Iggy’s hand covering his on the arm of the chair, it’s a lot harder to think clearly. He keeps his eyes fixed on their fingers, not trusting himself to meet that beautiful emerald gaze. “Usually when people hear my dad’s name, they think they’re supposed to treat me like some kind of prince. It’s so frustrating sometimes.”

\- “But you  _are_ a prince, Noct.”

\- He suddenly looks up at him, blue eyes going wide, and Ignis can almost hear his heart breaking. He quickly shakes his head. “It’s not because of who your father is. It’s because of  _you_. You’re brave. Caring. Commanding. Quite handsome.” Iggy adds a smile along with the last one, enjoying the flush of red spreading across soft cheeks. “I’m in your debt today. Perhaps you’d allow me to repay your kindness with dinner one evening?”

\- “D-dinner? You mean…? Like, just the two of us?”

\- “If you’d like, yes.”

\- “Um. S-sure. Sounds nice.”  _Oh Six, am I dreaming? Is this real??_

\- “Lovely.”

\- Noct can do little else but smile in return. Eventually the nurse enters their room and carefully splints Ignis’ wrist, finally running through a list of dos and don’ts before releasing him for the evening. Noct offers to give him a ride home - which he  _almost_ feels bad declining (his apartment is actually only a few blocks away) but he also values his life and so ultimately turns him down. They walk out together anyway. Dusk has fallen, and the air is thick with the threat of snow.

\- “You sure you don’t need a ride? It’s getting cold.”

\- “Thank you, but it would be far too much trouble. I…wouldn’t mind a bit of company on the way, though.”

\- “You got it.” Noct shoves his hands into his coat pockets. Ignis walks a little closer to him as they head across the street. “Um. By the way. I’m really glad I got to watch you perform today.”

\- A dry chuckle. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t exactly my greatest hour.” He holds up his wrist, the dark splint covering his palm and half of his forearm like a glove. “Still, it was heartening to know you were there.”

\- “R-really?”

\- “Of course. Especially since I was  _Noct_ expecting to see you.”

\- “…Did you just…?”

\- “Hm?”

\- “Nothing.” Noct clears his throat, thankful that the approaching darkness hides his reddening cheeks. It doesn’t, however, hide the obnoxious grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Iggy?”

\- “Yes, Noctis?”

\- “I think…you were really  _Spec_ -tacular today.”

\- “…Stop.”

<3

**Bonus:**

\- The moment Noct gets home, he flops onto his bed and quite literally squeals into his pillow. If Gladio or Prompto could see him now they would never let him live it down, but they can’t and so he doesn’t bother hiding his excitement. A date! A real date! With Ignis “Oozes-sex” Scientia himself! He’s got to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t somehow dreaming this all up. And then he texts Gladio to gloat.

_> > Heh, ‘bout damn time. When’s your big night?_

_> > Um, we actually didn’t get that far…._

_> > You at least got his number, right?_

_> > …..SHIT_

_> > Smooth._

_> >  Prom’s with you right?? Can’t he give it to me?_

_> > No can do, Witless Wonder_

_> > You gotta help a bro out!_

_> >  Prom says he can bring him along to your dad’s party this week ;) The rest is up to you_

\- Noct groans, letting his phone fall onto the mattress and then onto the floor. Some friends  _they_ are. How is he supposed to wait _five whole days_  before he can talk to Iggy again? And then what is he loses his nerve? He can’t just whisk Ignis off to the hospital every time he wants to flirt with him….

\- Five days. That’s how long he’s got to come up with a plan. And find something to wear that will catch the gymnast’s eye. If he’s going to do this, he’s gotta do it right.


	17. Dads can be hip - and they make great wingmen, too!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Year’s Eve Gala is here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not part of any specific prompt, just felt like everyone deserved fluff (and smut)

\- “You look fine, dude, stop messing with it.” Prompto tries not to laugh as he whips out his comb again and works out the newest tangle in Noct’s bangs. He’s been tugging and twisting it between his fingers since they arrived at Caelum Via Hotel, his nerves single-handedly attempting to ruin all of Prompto’s hard work. “Trust me, Ignis won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” **  
**

\- Noct somehow doubts that.  _Everyone_ at the New Year’s Eve Gala looks amazing that night, dressed in fine suits or elegant evening gowns. Dressed to impress the city’s most illustrious businessman (and subsequently the boss of nearly everyone in attendance), Regis Lucis Caelum - a.k.a. Dad. With all the bigwigs and fancy outfits, Noct is worried he won’t stand out even with his friend’s impressive style advice.

\- “Yeah, well. He’ll have to show up first,” he says by means of deflection, and sees Prompto’s shoulders droop instantly. Ignis, of course, isn’t the only who has yet to arrive - Gladio, too, is late, and the blonde has spent the last half hour not-so-secretly checking his phone for signs of a text. The two of them are beginning to worry that they’re all dressed up with no one to show.

\- A sudden clap on the shoulder breaks Noct’s mood instantly. He spins around and shoots his father a telling glare. “ _Daaad_ , whaddya want? Don’t you have more important people to bother?” Next to him, Prompto blinks owlishly.

\- “Nonsense. I’ve always got time to bother my boy,” Regis Lucis Caelum grins, somehow making the act look exceptionally refined. “Are you having a good time?”

\- A shrug. “Same as every year, I guess.”

\- “Ah, but this year you have a friend, I see.” Regis extends a warm hand toward Prompto, smiles when he reaches out to shake it. “You must be Mr. Argentum. I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you.”

\- Prompto practically beams at him. “It’s such an honor, Mr. Noct’s Dad! I-I meant to thank you more, um, formally? For agreeing to sponsor me at the nationals next month! That was so totally cool of you, sir.”

\- Smiling right down to the creases around his eyes, Regis pats the back of his hand. “Don’t thank me, thank Noctis here. He speaks very highly of you and your talents.”

\- “Me? You sure he isn’t talking about Ignis?” Prompto snort-laughs before he can even register his words, but then it’s too late. Noct is gaping at him with a look of betrayal, and Regis raises an eyebrow before breaking into a howl of laughter that leaves his son even more red-faced than before. Luckily, Noctis is spared any further humiliation when a deep voice calls out from across the banquet hall.

\- “Reggie!” An older man, hair the same salt-and-pepper shade as Noct’s father and shaved almost to the scalp, waves his hand as he approaches. Regis smiles and embraces the man, oblivious to the way Prompto is suddenly shrinking at his side. Behind them, Gladio shrugs and offers his boyfriend a thin smile. “And Noctis, it’s good to see you, lad. You’ve gotten shorter since last year, I think,” Clarus Amicitia chuckles, ruffling up Noct’s perfectly-groomed hair.

\- Prompto’s heart is racing. He looks from Gladio to the man he knows only by name and reputation to be his father, and decides that he needs to make his escape  _fast_. If Clarus recognizes him here - and how could he not after that damn selfie - he’ll probably be a dead man. Taking his momentary distraction as a chance at escape, Prompto starts to back away.

\- Two steps later, however, he smacks right into the (surprisingly solid) form of Gladio’s little sister. “Hey, aren’t you Prompto?” she asks, and he feels his stomach drop as he nods. “ _You’re_ the one dating my stupid brother? Wow, he didn’t mention you were so cute.”

\- “Can it, Iris.”

\- “Prompto?” And then it happens. Clarus turns and casts his steely gaze on the blonde. Prompto is frozen to the spot, unable to look away, but also tense with the instinct to bolt. He can’t see Gladio, can’t tell if he’s ready to jump to his rescue or is scared just as shitless as he is when Clarus takes a step forward. “I was wondering if I was ever going to get a formal introduction. It’s high past time, considering how long you’ve  _known_ my son.”

\- Even if Prompto could have said anything in that moment, he’s thankfully spared the chance to reply. The sudden arrival of a new guest has drawn the attention of the crowd around him - especially Noct’s, whose needy whimper cuts through the tension like a hot skate on ice. “Who is that?” Regis asks, a hint of amusement coloring his smile as they take in the sight of Ignis in full glory.

\- Standing near the entrance, dressed in a sleek black three-piece with a violet undershirt, he cuts an impeccable figure. Even with his wrist still splinted beneath his jacket sleeve, he’s utterly  _perfect_. Noctis has never seen his hair slicked back as it is now, the long strands flowing in a delicate curve down to his nape. In his arms, he holds a sizable bouquet of flowers - mostly roses, deep red, interspersed with several sylleblossoms from his home of Tenebrae. Noctis feels his knees begin to buckle.

\- Over his shoulder, Regis takes the hint. “Clarus, come have a drink with me. Let’s leave our boys to it, shall we?” He has an arm around his friend’s shoulders and is already leading him away. Clarus casts one last look at Prompto (as if to say  _we are not finished yet_ ) before following Regis to the open bar. Perhaps this is what catches Ignis’ eye, because the moment he spots Noct he starts towards them.

\- “Good evening,” he says smoothly, addressing Gladio and Prompto, too, although his gaze is fixed on Noct. Prompto offers a hasty greeting in return  - and then turns to make his escape at last, Gladio hot on his heels. Noct, meanwhile, is struggling to keep his jaw from scraping the floor as he looks Ignis up and down, then up again. “It’s nice to see you, too, Noctis,” he smirks. “Here - for you. As a thank you for your help at the clinic last week.” Ignis holds out the bouquet of roses, making sure to let his hand linger when Noct’s fingers brush against it.

\- Wide-eyed, Noct’s attention is now torn between the gorgeous flowers and the gorgeous man in front of him. “I-I, um. Thank you. But I thought…that’s why you asked me to dinner?” His voice sounds strange to his own ears, too high and shaking.

\- Ignis merely smiles, a slight curve forming at the corners of his mouth. “Well. I was actually hoping to make dinner into something a little more…personal.”

\- “O-oh.”

\- It’s neither a ‘yes’ nor a ‘no,’ but internally Noct is screaming. There’s so much he wants to say in that moment - about the flowers, about the  _dinner_ that sounds an awful lot like a  _date_ , about how good Ignis looks with his trim suit and burning emerald eyes - but the words get jammed in his throat. Silence follows (at least Ignis is able to read the telling blush on his cheeks) until the band starting up across the room pulls them both out of the moment. Ignis releases a breath and smiles, patting a hand on Noct’s arm.

\- “Perhaps you’d better find somewhere to put those flowers. Sylleblossoms are notoriously thirsty.”

\- Which is how Noct ends up alone in the bathroom several minutes later,  hunched over the counter while the bouquet soaks up water in the sink. He sighs at the mirror - taking in the sight of his mussed hair and bright, panicked eyes - and wonders how he ever thought he was ready for this.

\- A sound from one of the stalls suddenly catches his attention. It sounds an awful lot like a sob, and a familiar one at that. A quick check under the stall doors tells him exactly where Prompto is hiding. “Hey, you okay in there?” he asks, and hears the way Prompto stiffens against the door.

\- “Noct…? Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

\- “Why aren’t you with Gladio?” (Since he only saw one pair of feet, he certainly  _hopes_ the hockey player isn’t in there with him)

\- “Oh, um. He’s out there with his father and everyone so….”

\- “Wait a sec - you’re not in here because of Clarus, are you?”

\- Prompto’s silence is answer enough. Though he tries not to laugh, Noct can’t help but break into a grin at the thought. He’s known Clarus his whole life - knows that, like Gladio, he’s more bark than bite, especially off the ice, and that Prompto has no reason to be afraid. Yet, at the same time, he hinks he gets it. “Gladio’s probably worried about you. He wouldn’t want you to waste the whole party locked up in here.”

\- (Yes, Noct is perfectly aware of the irony, as this is pretty much his plan for the evening, too)

\- Thankfully, Prompto refrains from pointing that out. Instead, he slowly opens the door and steps out of the stall, where Noct can can see his eyes are red from crying. “I guess you’re right. Hey, are those flowers from Iggy?” he asks, catching sight of the bouquet in the sink. Noct nods almost shyly. “Wow. He must really like you.”

\- When Prompto smiles at him, a strained smile but a smile nonetheless, Noct feels his cheeks grow warm. Perhaps it’s time for both of them to make a reappearance at the party. Prom seems to think so, too, as he whips out his comb and quickly fixes their hair, dries his eyes, and locks his elbow with Noctis. Together they step out of the bathroom and head back out to find their dates.

**[Meanwhile…]**

\- “Fancy meeting  _you_ here,” Gladio grins over the rim of his glass. Ignis smiles politely.

\- “I suppose I have you to thank for inviting me. Dry martini, please, stirred,” he says to the bartender, before turning his attention back to Gladio beside him. “I almost decided not to come, but - “

\- “But Noct, right?”

\- A sharp look. “Pardon?”

\- “Come on, Iggy. The flowers? The hair? Everyone sees the way you two look at each other.”

\- “That isn’t - “ Clearing his throat, Ignis suddenly finds it difficult to make eye contact. “He is a charming young man, but I’m not sure we have the same intentions.”

\- As the bartender hands over Iggy’s drink, Gladio leans forward to clink his whisky against the rim. He’s close, his eyes playful but somehow intimidating as he hovers in Ignis’ field of vision. “And just what  _are_ your intentions?” When Ignis doesn’t answer, he throws an arm around his shoulders and begins to lead him away from the bar. “Noct’s like a little bro to me. I’ve grown up with him, I look out for him. I gotta make sure you’re trying hard enough to get in his pants.”

\- Ignis nearly chokes on a mouthful of gin. “Ex _cuse_  me?!”

\- Gladio stops walking. When he looks at Iggy this time, his expression is more serious, almost pleading. “Noct is hopelessly in love with you, but he’s also downright hopeless. Don’t wait. Make the first move.”

\- It’s hard, it really is, to accept that a guy like Gladio might  _actually_ have some good advice in the romance department. But loathe as Ignis is to admit it, of the two of them, Gladio is currently the only one getting laid. So he sighs, takes a sip of his drink, and acknowledges that yes, doing so is probably in his best interests. Gladio seems satisfied, and claps him hard enough on the back to dislodge his glasses. “You can thank me later.”

\- Ignis readjusts his specs with a glare. “Not likely.” But Gladio is already heading back to the bar, waving at several familiar faces and draining his glass to make room for a refill. Left alone and with nothing to do but go find Noctis, Iggy chugs back half of his own cocktail and sets off to begin the search.

\- Bathroom behind them, Prompto and Noct reenter the banquet hall to find the party livelier than ever. Ignis is nowhere in sight, but Gladio, with his wild mane of hair and light-colored suit, is much easier to pick out from the crowd. To Prompto’s relief, he seems to be talking with his sister and some other young women near the bar, no sign of Clarus anywhere nearby. “Now’s your chance,” Noct grins, nudging him with his elbow.

\- “What about you?”

\- “Gonna go look for Iggy. Catch up with you later.” Prompto nods and watches as Noct heads toward the stage, probably to get a better view. The skater’s own target is right in front of him, however, and he’s ready to take his chance. Gladio hasn’t noticed him yet, can’t see him approach, which gives Prompto time to think about what he’s going to say.  _I’m sorry for running off,_ seems like a good start.  _Sorry for freaking out - understandably - when you showed up with your dad. Without warning me._  Prompto’s fingers twitch at his sides.  _Maybe if someone had bothered to tell me I would have –_

\- “Prompto, was it?”

\- He stops, whirls around, feels his heart leap into his chest at the sight of Clarus Amicitia glowering at him from the nearest open doorway. The man isn’t smiling. In one hand, he’s nursing a drink - something dark and potent-looking - and gripping the doorframe with the other.

\- “M-m-m-mister Amicitia, s-s-sir!”

\- “Hm.” Amber eyes, familiar and yet cooler than Gladio’s, paralyze him to the spot. “Enjoying your evening?”

\- “Yes, sir.” It’s a lie and he’s certain Clarus can see right through him. “I was just going over to talk to Gladio and….”

\- “Gladio. He’s a good boy. A good son.” There’s an odd light in Clarus’ eye as he sighs, and Prompto begins to wonder just how many of those cocktails he’s already had. “I put a hockey stick in his hands as soon as he was big enough to hold it up by himself. Bought him his first skates, taught him how to use ‘em. His mother and I raised him on the ice. We’ve always known he’d make something of himself.”

\- Prompto swallows. “That’s…beautiful, sir.”

\- “But then he went and got himself thrown out of the season - nearly beat a man to death on national television,” he says, closing his eyes. “Because of you.”

-  _What…?_ Did…did he hear that correctly? Was  _he_ the reason Gladio got into that fight with the Gralean player? Prompto’s head is spinning, he feels cornered, trapped. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t…understand….”

\- “He told me what happened. What that man said, and what he threatened to do. And Gladio risked everything to defend you.” When Clarus reaches out,  Prompto mostly manages not to flinch. A heavy hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezes in time with the curve of his mouth. “Because I believe he truly loves you.”

\- Several seconds pass in stunned silence. From the way Clarus is looking at him, it’s clear he can read into his wide-eyed stare, the flush coloring his cheeks. He’s waiting for an answer, no doubt. Something eloquent, maybe, profound. Something to make him appear worthy of such praise. Instead, Prompto (once he finds his voice) blurts out the only four words running through his mind in that moment.

\- “I love him, too.”

\- And then, while he stammers and stutters for a recovery (because that seems like the exact opposite thing he should be telling _Gladio’s father,_  of all people!), Clarus’ smile merely grows. He silences Prompto with a half-hug, tugging him in with one arm and drowning out his whine with a deep, rumbling chuckle. “All I ask is that you make an honest man out of my son,” he says at last, and Prompto wonders if he’s actually conscious or merely dreaming this.

\- Clarus releases him with a wink and a handshake. Prompto practically floats his way over to Gladio, grabs his arm without a word, and begins to lead him (at first struggling, but once he catches the look on Prom’s face he follows without question) to the stairwell at the back of the hall. The steps open up onto the roof, the garden of which is covered in a dusting of snow. More is falling from the dark sky, but it’s merely an excuse to get closer as Prompto leads Gladio further away from the noise of the party within.

\- When at last they come to a halt, Prom finds himself immediately wrapped in large, familiar arms. “So,” Gladio hums into his ear. “You gonna tell me why we’re up here, or do I get to guess?”

\- Prompto laughs and his breath is a puff of white on the winter air. “Whatever I did to deserve you, I’m so glad I did it.” He turns, slides his hands up to Gladio’s neatly-trimmed jawline, smiles into his eyes. “I love you, Gladiolus Amicitia.”

\- “Wow, you only use my full name when you’re angry.”

\- “Shut up.” Prompto kisses him, more teeth than lips since he can’t seem to stop grinning, and Gladio eagerly plays along. He tastes like whiskey and hors d'oeuvres (admittedly not the sexiest of combinations), but Prom doesn’t want to let go. It isn’t until they hear the fireworks start that Gladio finally pulls back.

\- “…Happy New Year, babe,” he smirks, bringing their foreheads to rest together between them.

\- Prompto smiles breathlessly. “Mm, you, too. See that gazebo over there?”

\- “Yeah?”

\- “Fuck me in it.”

\- “ _Hell yeah.”_

\- The sounds of the city alight with celebration help to drown out their joined voices. Prompto reaches back to twist his fingers in Gladio’s dark hair, pulls him down over his shoulder and into another heated kiss even as their bodies press closer together. They both moan, Gladio tightens his grip on that slender waist. And when he comes, it’s surrounded by the warmth and taste and smell of Prompto, and without a doubt in the world.

**Bonus!**

\- Noct spots Ignis out on the balcony almost instantly. He’s alone, which is good, and nursing a cocktail as he leans over the railing. Not wanting to surprise him, Noct clears his throat before approaching. “Hey, Specs.”

\- “Noct?” Ignis turns and - is that  _relief_ on his face? “There you are. I’d all but given up looking for you.”

\- “You were looking for me?” He joins him at the edge of the balcony. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Um. Getting water. For…the flowers.”

\- A chuckle. “I should think a vase would do just fine next time.” Setting his drink on the railing, Ignis instead curls the fingers of his good hand around Noctis’ chin, holding him still while he leans closer. “But perhaps now is as good a time as any to have found each other. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

\- Noct’s heart is pounding. His stomach is filled with the fluttering of a thousand butterflies and yet, this time, he’s determined not to miss his chance. “Y-yeah? Me, too.”

\- Steel-green eyes flash in amusement. “By all means, you first.”

\- “Specs…. Ignis, I – “

\- “Ah, Mr. Scientia! Noctis! Glad I found you!” Probably the last person Noct was expecting - or hoping - to see, Regis makes his way across the balcony toward the two young men, his face split in a half-drunken smile and his arms open wide.

\- “ _Daaaad!!”_  As Ignis’ fingers slip away from his face, Noct isn’t sure what’s going to kill him first - the missed opportunity, or the humiliation of being cockblocked by his own father.

\- “Noctis, please ‘chill.’” Regis says, very seriously, and Noct considers jumping over the rail. “I have some business to discuss with the coach of our new star skater.”

\- “Mr. Caelum, you flatter me,” Ignis answers as smoothly as if he hadn’t been undressing the man’s son with his eyes mere moments before. “But I’m only one of his advisors. If you wish to speak to Cor Leonis, I can – “

\- “No, no, you’re the right one.” There’s something playful in the way Regis is smiling, his cheeks colored with more than just alcohol. Or, Noct thinks, maybe he’s just daft. “I was hoping you could be a sort of…point of contact. If we need to reach Prompto, or vice versa.”

\- Ignis begins to nod, reaches for his pocket to pull out a business card, but Regis is quicker (even drunk). He nudges Noct’s arm and flashes a grin. “I’m no good with technology, so I’ll leave the exchange to Noctis, here. He’s always doing the ‘texting’ and the ‘tweetering’ - “

\- (“Tweeting, Dad,  _gods!_ ”)

\- “– and I thought perhaps you two could, er, stay in touch. For business.”

\- Ignis forces himself to keep a straight face. It may be the most difficult thing he’s done in a long night of difficult things, but he manages. Noct is less successful, his expression a mask of shock and disbelief as he slowly withdraws his phone and holds it out to Iggy.

\- The whole time, Regis looks as excited as a child in a candy shop.

\- Midnight chimes. Fireworks burst overhead as the band strikes back up inside. As snow begins to fall harder, the three rejoin the party inside the banquet hall, and after a couple rounds of champagne Noct is even relaxed enough to ask Ignis for a dance. Iggy smiles, takes his hand, and they thoroughly enjoy themselves despite not knowing any of the moves.

\- It’s the next morning that Noct bothers to check his phone again. Slightly hungover and still half-dressed in his own bed, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and swipes his screen to check the time. The first thing that appears is the contact page - opened to the form where Ignis input his phone number the night before. Noct smiles, finds himself blushing at name on the profile (“Specs”) and is about to close the app when something else catches his attention. In the “business” field, Ignis has typed not the name of his school or even his profession - but a message.

-  _“free tomorrow after 6”_

\- Noct’s heart soars right through the ceiling. Their dinner plans are on after all. Only two questions now remain: one, what should he wear?

\- And two, how likely is Iggy to put out on the first date?


	18. The perfect (Ignoct) date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis finally learns the importance of honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by several readers who all seemed to want to see the Ignoct side of this Promptio story most xD

\- Every time Prompto steps foot in Noct’s place, he feels overwhelmed. It’s less an apartment and more of a penthouse, located on the forty-seventh floor of the Caelum Residences (owned by his father, of course) and overlooking the bustle of the city. His bedroom alone is larger than Prompto’s entire apartment. Too big even with the three of them in it - Gladio lounging on the king-sized bed, Noctis standing in front of the mirror, and Prompto digging through his (well-stocked) closet for something to wear on his date with Ignis.

\- “Are you even sure it’s really a date?” Gladio jokes from behind the pages of a hockey magazine he found on Noct’s shelf. His dark-haired friend shoots him a glare.

\- “Well, yeah. I mean, obviously.” Noct tugs off the shirt he’s wearing and tosses it into the rapidly growing discard pile behind him. “Like, he gave me his number and everything.”

\- “Your  _dad_ got his number for you when he was drunk,” Gladio retorts. “Maybe Iggy’s just being nice ‘cause he feels sorry for you.”

\- “Aww, don’t be mean, Gladdy, Noct’s super nervous already,” Prompto says as he reemerges from the closet with an armful of new outfits. Noct shoots him a glare, too.

\- “Am not! I’m just…. I want it to be perfect. I want him to really like me.”

\- Gladio flashes Prompto a secret grin, and the blonde barely manages to contain himself as he pats Noctis on the back and hands him a suit jacket. “You’re hard not to like, buddy. Just smile a lot and he won’t be able to resist.” Falling quiet in thought for a moment, Noct shrugs on the jacket and adjusts it in the front. He turns, checks the side view, the back, musses his hair and practices his smile.

\- “Hey, Specs,” he says, then straightens his posture and tries again. “Hi, Iggy. Um. Ignis.”

\- “Iggy is better.”

\- “Hey, Iggy. You look….really nice this evening.”

\- “Tell him you like his ass,” Gladio chips in without looking up.

\- “How the hell did you ever manage to get a date?” Noct says, glaring again.

\- “I told Prom I like his ass.”

\- Prompto snorts. “I probably would have slept with you faster if you had.” He turns back to Noct, who’s rolling his eyes hard enough to make Ignis proud. “Gladio’s got a point, though. Be honest, guys love that.”

\- “Is Iggy really the kind of guy who wants to be  _checked out_?” Noct’s voice is flat, disbelieving. Something tells him that too much honesty might just earn him a one-way ticket to ForeverAloneVillle. Like, for instance, if Iggy knew how many times Noct had jacked off to the thought of that sharp tongue massaging his balls, or how that lean body would look arching off the mattress, he would probably label him a pervert and never speak to him again.

\- Apparently, Gladio disagrees. “How should we know what he’s into? Maybe he’s one of those dirty librarian types, y’know? Frigid on the outside, but a firecracker in the bedroom.”

\- “So…,” Noct says, turning to him while Prom finishes styling his hair. “You’re saying there’s a chance?”

\- “I’m saying you should go prepared. Never hurts.”

\- At his side, Prompto offers a grin. “Yeah. Maybe you’ll get lucky, buddy.”

-  _Maybe in my dreams,_  Noct thinks to himself. With more confidence, he says, “Guess it’s worth a shot.”

\- Ignis is already waiting for him when he arrives at the theater. Until now, Noct has only ever seen Ignis in two modes: his gym attire, or the formal suit he wore to the Gala. Tonight, then, is the first time Ignis has ever looked  _relaxed_  - underneath his dark coat, he’s wearing a light-colored buttonup and grey trousers. Combined with a pair of bright red sneakers, Iggy’s balancing a fine line between classy and casual. Noct simply thinks he looks stunning.

\- “Ah, perfect timing.” Ignis smiles when he notices Noctis approaching. He steps back from the movie poster he’s been admiring to give his date the once-over. “You look nice this evening.”

-  _Shit, that was my line!_ Now he’s gotta think fast. “Hey, Specs. U-um, Iggy. Thanks, you look…hot.  _GREAT. You look great!” Shit, shit shit!_

\- An indulgent smile. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already purchased our tickets.” Ignis withdrew two slips from his shirt pocket and handed one to Noct. It was surprisingly warm between his fingers. “Prompto told me you’re a fan of the  _Hunters’ Creed_  series, so I thought you might like to see the newest film.”

\- “Yeah, definitely!” Forget the fact that Noct had already seen it (three times, actually, two of which had been with Prom), it was still easily one of his favorites. And knowing the ending would give him more time to focus his attention on Iggy - which was, in all honesty, probably Prompto’s plan anyway.

\- But as they walk together into the theater (deciding that yes, one shared popcorn between them will be just fine), Noct has forgotten one crucial piece of information about the movie. It isn’t until they’re in their seats, smiling and laughing as they pass the popcorn between them, that he notices all the other young couples sitting around them. And then he remembers. And he curses Prompto because now he understands the real reason he suggested this show -  _the sex scene._

\- It’s steamy, controversially so, and while Noct all but tuned it out the first three times (he was far more interested in the plot, thank you very much), he knows that will be impossible with Ignis sitting right next to him, completely unaware. So as the movie starts and the lights dim, he clutches the popcorn in his lap and swallows hard.

\- “Y-y’know, Igs,” he starts in a hushed tone. “If there’s another movie you’d rather see….”

\- But Ignis doesn’t hear him. The theme music is playing, and the scene opens with a car chase. By the looks of things, Iggy is already engrossed in the action - while Noct can only sink further in his seat and plot out how he’s going to get Prompto back for this.

\- The movie moves fast, every bit the edge-of-your-seat blockbuster the posters promised, and halfway through even Noct can’t help but get into it. The Hunter confronts the demon overlord, he’s got him on the ropes, and Noct is so excited the bucket of popcorn is shaking in his lap. When the overlord transforms into a beast, Noct (even though he knew it was coming) nearly jumps out of his seat. Quick thinking by Ignis keeps the popcorn from flying all over the theater - but now it means his hand is positioned right between Noct’s legs just as _That Scene_  starts up.

\- There’s no preamble. Iggy lets out an audible gasp, and Noct feels his face heat up about a hundred degrees. It’s noisy, it’s wild, it’s why small children were banned from the screening. All around them in the theater, couples are exchanging heated looks.

\- Iggy’s hand twitches in the popcorn, his wrist edging closer to Noct’s thigh.

\- Noct is torn between wanting to run out of the room or climb into Ignis’ lap.

\- When he forces himself to glance over, Ignis isn’t watching him, but rather staring at the blatant pornography on the screen with his eyes wide. Every time the woman on screen moans, his throat bobs a little and Noctis feels like he could ruin the inside of his jeans on the spot. Feeling bold (and too turned on to think better of it), Noctis rocks up every so slightly with his hips, rubbing against the tempting friction of Iggy’s wrist and startling the man right out of his trance. Ignis gasps, retracts his hand on instinct, and in the process knocks the popcorn onto the floor with a loud  _thunk_.

\- The rest of the theater turns to glare at them. But neither of them care. Laughing off their embarrassment, they drop to the floor and work together to scoop up the spill. The scene is over long before they settle back in their seats, and they enjoy the rest of the movie with their sticky fingers brushing together atop the armrest.

\- “Well, what did you think?” Noct asks as they step outside into the cold evening air. It’s snowing again, and Ignis has his arm around Noctis’ shoulders in lieu of him wearing a proper coat.

\- “Hm. Not terrible, but perhaps not worth ‘two thumbs way up.’ I’d give it a thumb and a half.”

\- Noct snorts -  _snorts!_  - and turns a little closer against Iggy’s side. “Harsh critic. I’d love to know what kind of movies make it to the top of your list.”

\- “The classics, mostly. I could show you, if you’d like.” He stops walking, bringing them to a halt just outside the parking garage. Green eyes go soft behind his lenses. “After all, the night is still young. And I did promise you dinner.”

-  _Dinner…at Iggy’s place?!_  Noct had been expecting a restaurant, maybe someplace with fancy wines and too many other people. He would have managed for the sake of his date, of course, but if he was hearing this correctly…. “You mean, at your place? Just the two of us?”

-  _Gods_ , why does his voice choose the worst times to crack?!

\- Ignis merely smiles, almost as if he finds it… _endearing?_  “If you’d like, yes. Not to brag, but I’ve been known to make a wicked stir-fry.”

\- Stir-fry. That sounds like it has vegetables in it. Noct weighs the pros and cons - Con: a meal that isn’t deep fried and covered in cheese. Pro: The chance to spend more time with Specs. He finds that it isn’t a difficult choice at all.

\- “I’m in,” he grins, and Ignis squeezes his shoulder. “Where’d you park I’ll follow you.”

\- “Oh, I came by bus,” he admits. “Never saw the point in owning a vehicle in this city, not with such a convenient public transportation system.”

\- Somehow, Noctis manages not to laugh. Ignis is a total hippie, and yeah, it’s cute, but now he’s terrified his dinner is going to be full of healthy, organic things. “We can take my car again,” he says, practically dragging Ignis after him into the parking lot, completely oblivious to the look of terror painted on his date’s face.

\- They make it in one piece. Again, Iggy is convinced it’s a miracle, and decides a glass of wine each is the only way to ease the tension of the ride out of his shoulders. Leading Noctis into the kitchen, he directs him to a stool at the island counter and fishes out two glasses from the cabinet.

\- “Nice place you got here,” Noct comments as his eyes scan the pristine room. A large dark sofa on a white rug in the living room, bookshelves lining the wall in place of a television, some exercise equipment neatly folded in the corner. It looks like something straight out of an interior design catalog. “Really clean.”

\- “Yes, well. I’m not home that often, between my own lessons at the gym and coaching Prompto. Mostly to cook and to sleep - the bedroom is quite a mess, I’m afraid.”

\- Please _show me._  Noct clears his throat. “I’m sure it isn’t that bad.”

\- The challenge is palpable. Ignis watches him closely as he fills each glass with chardonnay, something tugging at the corners of his mouth - but whatever he’s thinking he keeps to himself. “Dinner will be just a moment. If you need the powder room, it’s around the corner.” And then he’s tugging on an apron and setting ingredients (as Noct feared, mostly veggies) out in preparation. While he cooks, they chat about nothing in particular - Prompto’s upcoming schedule, the kinds of classes Iggy teaches during the week (youth athletics for the most part), and Noct’s hobbies which include video games, comic books, and long naps.

\- By the time they’ve both polished off their wine, the stir-fry is almost ready and Ignis is back in front of Noctis to set out the dishes.

\- “Hey, Iggy, can I ask you something?”

\- He smiles. “Of course, anything.”

-  _Deep breath. You can do this._ “Are you seeing anyone?”

\- Ignis stops. Above the counter, a plate hovers in mid-air where his hand has frozen in place, and his eyes are locked on Noct, curious, questioning. It’s not the reaction Noct was hoping for and he immediately stumbles for a recovery.

\- “Sorry, that was dumb, forget it, um, what I meant was – “

\- “It depends.” Over his glasses his eyes are intense. Noct squirms in his seat, his heart racing.

\- “O-on?”

\- “Whether you’re interested or not.”

-  _Floored._ No other word can describe the way Noct’s breath suddenly leaves him gaping and gasping with his knuckles white around the edge of the counter. For his part, Ignis interprets the stunned silence as he pleases, and goes back to serving up dinner as if nothing had happened. The steaming food (yes, vegetables and all) in front of Noct is a welcome distraction, and he stuffs the first forkful into his mouth as if it could prevent him from saying anything worse.

\- Luckily for him, Ignis is an amazing cook. The first bite has him forgetting all about his embarrassment, and he digs in with enough gusto to make the front page of the tabloids - _‘Picky Caelum Son Eats Broccoli and Enjoys it!’_

\- His enthusiasm earns a chuckle from the seat to his right. “I’m flattered you enjoy the meal, Noct, but please remember to chew properly.”

\- “Mff fhfmm.” He pauses, swallows noisily, and tries again. “You’re perfect!”

\- He means to say  _‘it’s’_ \- really, he does. His words are apparently intent on betraying him at every turn tonight, but this time the damage is done too quickly to take it back.

\- Ignis blinks. Lays down his fork. Picks up a napkin and politely dabs at his mouth. Meanwhile, Noct’s heart thuds in his chest and he reaches for his (second) glass of wine. Knocks it back in one swift move. Then they’re both moving.

\- Iggy’s lips are as warm and soft as Noct had imagined. Better, even, as they slide over his own in a kiss they both feel was long overdue. One or both of them surges forward, Noct’s hands tugging at Iggy’s shirt while deft fingers card through his black hair. They’re both breathless, but neither knows how to stop now that they’ve finally opened the floodgates.

\- Eventually, cheeks a healthy pink, Ignis draws back just far enough to slip off his glasses. They’d been bumped askew on his nose, and are probably smudged up something fierce, yet Noct doesn’t have the presence of mind to apologize. On the contrary, he finds himself unable to look away from the powerful pull of Iggy’s unveiled eyes, piercing and beautiful and perfect and if he lets out a little whine in his desperation, well, who can blame him?

\- Those eyes soften in a smile. “Noctis. I hope I’m not being too forward, but would you like to – “

\- “I brought condoms.”

\- “Oh, _thank the gods_.”

\- When he tugs Noctis up (meals abandoned for now), the younger man goes more than willingly. Backwards, he steers them both down the hall, alternating between heated kisses and pausing to strip off another layer of unnecessary clothing between them. It’s hard, of course, with the way Noct’s arms are wrapped so tightly around him, or the way his hips are grinding against his thigh, but Ignis has always been good at multitasking. Noct doesn’t even bother to comment on the unsurprising tidiness of Iggy’s bedroom - he’s too focused on the bed itself, and on getting both of them naked and in it.

\- They stop for a moment when Iggy’s calves hit the mattress. Green eyes meet dark blues and there’s a question there.  Noct swallows. Gasps when Ignis reaches down to palm him through the front of his boxers. “Y-you…want me to…?”

\- “I do.”

\- “ _Okay.”_

\- He watches in awe as Ignis strips off the last of his clothing and lays back onto the bed. His long legs fall open, he smiles and beckons Noctis to join him.

\- Noct, for all his effort to restrain himself that evening, literally pounces at the invitation.

**[Bonus]**

\- Then entire apartment is quiet when Noct wakes up sometime later to the blinking of his phone screen on the floor. He groans inwardly, tries to ignore it and curl up deeper in Iggy’s arms, but the little blue light is damn persistent. Reluctantly, he disentangles himself from Spec’s still-sleeping form and scoops the phone up as fast as he can.

\- There are over twenty unread texts, most of which are from Prompto (surprise, surprise) but also a few from Gladio, too. As he settles back under the sheets, he checks the ones from Prom first. Lots of  _‘How’s it going, buddy?!?! Enjoy the moooovie??’_  and enough emojis to make a teenage girl’s eyes burn.

\- Noct smirks and replies with a simple thumbs up and a wink.

\- Gladio’s messages are less predictable. He sent several texts to check in, to make sure Noct was safe and made it home (either his own or Iggy’s in one piece). He also mentioned leaving something special in Noct’s wallet. Which, Noct recalls, is in his jacket which is still somewhere in Ignis’ hallway. Whatever the surprise is, it’ll have to wait until morning.

\- Noct chucks his phone to the foot of the bed, yawns, and snuggles up once again in now-familiar arms.

\- In the morning, while Iggy whips up some eggs and toast and hums to himself, Noct comes out of the shower feeling incredibly refreshed. He greets Ignis with a grin and a kiss (well, a few kisses, actually, until Iggy has to shoo him away lest the eggs burn). His jacket has thoughtfully been laid out across the back of the sofa, and he digs around in his pockets for his wallet, curious but also worried about whatever he’s going to find inside.

\- Surprisingly, it isn’t anything incriminating. Just a folded piece of paper, with a message scribbled on it in Gladio’s messy handwriting.  _‘Don’t forget to be honest’_  it reads - and Noct can’t help but laugh out loud.

\- “What is it?” Ignis leans over the island counter, a plate of breakfast in one hand and a carton of orange juice in the other. Noct smiles and carries the note over to him.

\- “Just a little advice for our date last night.”

\- “Oh? Well, I’d say things went swimmingly even without it. But out of curiosity….”

\- “I think Gladio wants me to tell you how much I like your ass.”

\- Iggy smirks and, without missing a beat, says, “I hope you don’t mind me  _holding it against you._ ”

\- Yeah. Noct is most definitely in love.


	19. SPECIAL: Prompto's hockey lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey so uh-- we got Prom to teach Gladio a toe pick. Can we get Gladio to teach Prom how to play with a stick? 😉 Because I imagine Prom being able to pick up hockey fairly quickly. He's fast, agile-- maybe a little more coordinated than he appears to be?" (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this isn’t actually part of the main story, please enjoy a little bit of fluff and smut ;)

\- It’s been months, and Gladio’s not only itching to get back out on the ice - he’s  _aching_ for it. Sure, he joins Prompto for most of his practices, sometimes laces up and skates around the rink with him to warm up (often in the very literal sense when pre-stretches turn into impromptu make out sessions). But it simply isn’t the same. The feel of a stick in his hands, the weight of shoulder pads, of a helmet - he misses  _playing hockey._

\- Part of the terms of his suspension include no practice sessions with his teammates for the remainder of the season. He isn’t banned from training, per se, but there’s very little he can do without someone to race, to pass the puck to, or even to guard the goal and try to block his shots. For the last few weeks he’s resorted to watching videos online and imagining himself out there with the other players to get his fix, but the truth of the matter is that he’s beginning to go stir crazy.

\- He decides that desperate times call for desperate measures.

\- Prompto gets back to his apartment a little after seven that night. Having Gladio greet him at the door is nothing new - he’s basically moved in over the past couple of months, spends time cleaning, cooking, keeping himself busy during the long days. But it is unusual to see him like this: fully dressed (not just in sweatpants and maybe a tank top if he’s cold) and smiling excitedly. Prompto is naturally and immediately suspicious.

\- “Hey, big guy,” he says cautiously as he leans in for a kiss. “You look…halfway decent for a change.”

\- Gladio fiddles with the hem of his jacket. “Thanks, babe. Hey, so, I was thinking. Wanna go out for dinner tonight?” Which is a rare offer considering how much they both usually prefer to stay in on a weeknight.

\- But Prompto is tentatively optimistic about the sudden boost in his boyfriend’s mood. So as he steps past him to set down his bags he shoots him a smile. “Sure. Did you have anything in mind, or is it up to me?”

\- “Actually…. I already got us reservations.” Prom’s ears perk up. “At that sushi place you like.”

\- Okay, Prompto is  _definitely_ suspicious now. Gladio always turns his nose up whenever he suggests Takka’s, both because of the fishy smell and because it’s outrageously expensive. No doubt about it now - _he wants something_.

\- Prompto pauses in unlacing his sneakers. “What’s the catch?”

\- “Catch? There’s no catch. Why would you think there’s a catch?”

\- There’s totally a catch. It isn’t apparent until after dinner, by which time Prompto’s eaten over 400 gil worth of squid, octopus, fresh tuna, and salmon roe (Gladio himself had three bowls of udon). Leaving the restaurant, he catches amber eyes watching him from time to time, wonders if perhaps Gladio’s plan is simply to wine and dine him for the evening, a little romance before a night of hot sex. If that’s the case, he’s already earned himself a spectacular blowjob at least. Not that he really needed to go to all this trouble, of course. He could’ve just asked and –

\- “Hey, Prom. Mind if we make a pit stop?” Gladio slings his arm around the blond as they walk, turning him down a familiar path - one which definitely does not lead back to their love nest, but rather to someplace they both know equally well.

\- “You mean the rink?” Prompto blinks, glances curiously up at his boyfriend from under the bangs sticking out from his beanie. “They’ve gotta be closed by now, it’s almost nine.” Not to mention the fact that he’s already spent most of the afternoon there training with Cor. Ice skating has never felt like ‘work’ to him, but somehow this seems a lot like going back to the office after checking out for the day.

\- He receives a sheepish smile in answer. “Yeah, well. I, uh, had Nyx and the guys leave a key for us.”

\- And there it is, that suspicious feeling again that Gladio is most definitely up to something. Still, Prompto can’t resist the fingers on the back of his neck or the half puppy-dog eyes he’s being given (which takes skill when the one giving them is taller by a head) so he bites back any complaints and smiles indulgently instead. “Guess you really went outta your way to plan this, huh, whatever it is. Fine, but don’t get mad if I fall asleep on you.”

\- As expected, the rink is completely dark by the time they arrive. Also as expected, there’s a key stashed under the mat by the back door, and Gladio lets them in as quietly as possible. Prompto is still doing mental flips trying to guess what they’re really doing here at this time of night, but the moment Gladio leads him into the locker room, all the pieces suddenly crash into place.

\- On one of the benches there are two sets of uniforms laid out and ready to go. Shoulder pads, shin pads, two helmets, and jerseys each bearing the logo of the Insomnia Kings. One of the uniforms, the one that says “15” in bold, white font, clearly belongs to Glaidio. Prom notices the other one, number “02,” reads “Ulric” across the back when Gladio holds it out to him.

\- “It’ll be a little big on you, but Nyx is the smallest guy on our team. And the only one who washes his uniform more than once a season.”

\- “…Why would Nyx’s uniform need to fit me?”

\- Gladio falters. Lets his hand, and the jersey in it, droop a little. “So, uh. I guess I was hoping you’d, y’know. Play a little hockey with me.” Behind Prompto, there are a couple of sticks propped up against the row of lockers, as well as a few practice pucks in a bag next to them. Prompto starts to protest - he’s never played before, doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t even really like hockey with all the blood and violence - but Gladio is giving him that look again. A mix of hope and desperation, and Prompto can see the need there. He sighs. “Y-yeah, okay. But no nose bleeds or I’m not sleeping with you for a week.”

\- “Of course, babe!” With a laugh, Gladio pulls him into a particularly enthusiastic hug. “I promise, no body checks. Just the basics today.” There’s only the slightest hint of reluctance when Prompto nods his head.

\- From the outset it’s tough going. The uniform is heavy, makes him feel weighed down and clumsy. The skates are heavier, too, not at all the sleek, light feel that he’s used to, and they make it difficult to bend his ankles. For someone who practically lives on the ice, Prompto suddenly feels like a small kid again, taking his first tentative steps toward the rink, trying not to think about falling. He’s got Gladio at his side, of course, looking every bit as broad and handsome as the morning they first met - but this time, he’s wearing a grin that tells Prompto just how ridiculous he must look in comparison.

\- “First, the basics of skating,” Gladio announces as he leaves Prom’s side to glide backwards out into the fresh rink.

\- “Umm? In case you haven’t noticed,” comes the retort, somewhat shakily as Prompto puts blade to ice and begins to follow him. “I already know how to skate.” Naturally, the moment he says this his left leg wobbles out from under him and he has to flail his arms to keep from falling over.

\- Gladio at least has the tact not to laugh. “Skating for hockey is totally different. It’s not about grace or tricks, it’s about power and speed. Here, try skating into my arms.” He smiles and settles into a half-crouched position, hands out to either side. “Use your thighs, push off on the skates like you’re running.”

\- It sounds stupid. It is stupid because Prompto is trying, failing, looking like a fish out of, well, ice water as he slips and slides in place. More advice from his boyfriend across the rink and he tries again. After a few attempts he thinks he gets the angle of the blade, manages to push himself off into a fast run-skate. And…yes! He’s doing it, probably far less gracefully than he could be, but it’s working and Gladio’s getting closer and closer and –

\- Toepick.  _Toepick! TOE! PICK!_ Why isn’t he stopping?!

\- Gladio is waiting for it. The second Prompto starts to collide with him, he’s into a backwards glide, using the brunt of his torso to catch his boyfriend and slow his momentum, until they’re languidly sliding together across the ice. He grins. Prompto slowly peels his hands away from his face to look up at him, and turns a soft shade of pink. “Not bad for your first go. Next, we can work on stopping.”

\- It takes over an hour, but neither of them notice how quickly time seems to pass. Despite his initial reluctance, Prompto is finding the style of skating in hockey to be an all new challenge for him, one that he’s determined to master in order to keep his reputation in the rink. And Gladio, in teaching and training him, is practically in heaven. He’s never had so much fun reviewing the basics - it means getting to spend time with Prompto, doing something he loves; getting to smile and kiss away his frustrations while they work out the kinks; getting to  _feel_ and  _smell_ and  _breathe_ hockey again, and suddenly he’s not sure he can go back to living without this.

\- It’s almost midnight by the time Prompto actually gets a stick in his hand. He watches almost in awe as Gladio launches the puck down the length of the rink - his boyfriend makes it look easy, but he’s certain it takes an unbelievable amount of power to pull that off - and rolls his eyes when he’s told it’s his turn. As expected, though he tries hard, the puck moves only a few feet.

\- “C’mere, Prom.” Gladio sets the weighted black disc back into place, then wraps his arms loosely around Prompto’s waist.

\- Oh. Oh, this is nice. Even through the excessive layers of their uniforms, Gladio is warm, feels so strong and familiar pressed close against his back. Prompto finds himself swallowing as his attention is torn.

\- “Put your hands  _here_ and  _here_  on the stick - yeah, there ya go. Now grip it tight, but not too tight. Turn your wrist a bit.” Fucking hell, does he have any idea how he sounds, with his voice right next to Prompto’s ear like this?! “Ready, babe?”

\- Gladio’s gloves are on his. A whimper threatens to escape his lips as Prom nods once, tightly, and then his arms are being drawn back. The head of the stick scrapes across the ice, lifts off - and comes slamming back down to blast the puck halfway across the rink in a swing that leaves Prompto breathless.

\- “Wow,” he comments, knowing his face must be bright red. Suddenly, he wishes he’d bothered to put on Nyx’s helmet. He hears Gladio chuckle in his ear at the same time he realizes his gloved hands are still holding him.

\- “Pretty cool, huh? You did great.”

\- “…But that was all you.”

\- “Nope, I let go at the last second.”

\- “Liar.”

\- “Prove it.”

\- Before Prompto can open his mouth again Gladio is kissing him. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter whether or not he did it alone, because he realizes he’s  _having fun._  Gladio is smiling against his lips, his eyes are so full of love and pride, and everything feels so right in the world. Prom isn’t sure who ends the kiss first - neither of them really want to - but the moment his lips are free he’s shooting Gladio a grin.

\- “If it’s cool with you, I wanna keep trying.”

\- Had Gladio been told he’d just won a million gil, he couldn’t have looked any happier.

\- He emerges back out onto the rink several moments later in full goalie gear - helmet, blockers, and an angled, tapered stick. He sets up cones as a makeshift goal behind him, then hunkers into position. “Bring it on.”

\- Prompto does try his best. His shots are blocked one after another, but more important is the fact that he’s improving with every strike. The pucks are sailing further and faster every time, until Gladio’s actually having to  _try_ to keep them out of his goal. With every step closer to victory, Prompto’s confidence grows.

\- At last, around his thirtieth or fortieth attempt, he slams the puck so hard that it grazes off the edge of Gladio’s glove and goes soaring past him, knocking down one of the cones and earning Prom his first goal of the night (or ever, for that matter). He immediately jumps into a cheer, while Gladio pulls up his mask, stares at the spinning puck in disbelief, then favors his boyfriend with a lopsided smile. “I must be getting tired,” he concedes.

\- “Or I’m just a natural.” Prompto skates over to him, grateful for the strong arm that catches him as he wobbles in. “But…I guess it is pretty late. Call it a night?”

\- “Yeah,” Gladio agrees when he catches sight of the clock on the wall above the rink. Nearly two a.m. “You don’t have practice in the morning, do you?”

\- The blond’s shrug is exaggerated by the massive shoulder pads under his borrowed jersey. “I do. I can call Cor and reschedule, though.” Gladio’s helmet is fully off now, his hair sweaty and matted but his grin as magnetic as ever. Prompto leans up to kiss him, hands on the oversized blocker on his forearm. “You, uh. Think you’d be up for a little more of a work out when we get home?”

-  _“Oooh.”_  With a padded glove, Gladio reaches down to pull his boyfriend’s hips closer. “See, I was just thinking the exact same thing. Except…. Why wait?”

\- The locker rooms, and the showers at the back of them, are all theirs for the night. Gladio strips first, then helps Prompto out of Nyx’s uniform piece by piece. Thin fingers trace over the dark lines of his tattoo, pink lips kiss along the trails of sweat streaming over his chest, his shoulders, his neck; and by the time they reach the shower stalls both of them are pulsing with adrenaline and desire.

\- Gladio leans Prom back against the tiled wall as he kisses him. Maps out a path of fire with his fingers down the length of his body, then follows after with his mouth. Above him, deep moans vye for dominance over the sound of running water as Gladio lavishes his appreciation all over every inch of Prom’s cock. Kisses and licks and sucks him until he’s trembling with pleasure. Then he stands, and the blond pulls him readily into his arms. Moans again when Gladio guides his leg up, locks his slender thigh into place around his hip and grinds their cocks together between them. They chase their releases together, swallowing each other’s groans and sighs as climax washes over them both.

\- Finally, wearing sleepy smiles, they rinse off the evidence of exertion and close up the rink for the night. Gladio’s mind is quiet while they walk home together, arm in arm. He’s relaxed, more so than he’s felt in weeks, and he can’t resist pulling Prompto closer to kiss the rim of his exposed ear. “Love you,” he smiles. “And thanks.”

\- Bright baby blues turn up to regard him, and Prom winks. “I had fun. Y’know, next time you wanna practice together,” he says, with a prod to the center of Gladio’s chest. “All you gotta do is ask.”


	20. The Crystal Cup Gran Prix (and Promptio's First Fight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the Skater AU every relationship has arguments. Would there ever be a argument where Gladio would go to Clarus for help? Or his mom? He knows he did the screw up and Prompto is important enough he wants to fix it." (original prompt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the beginning of the end for Promptio (..wait what..?!) 
> 
> (Mild trigger warnings for power harassment, and a little bit of bad touching)

It’s early spring and the entire skating world is abuzz with excitement. Especially in Insomnia, where for the first time in over a decade the International Gran Prix Crystal Cup is going to be held. As the single most important figure skating event of the year, it will determine whose careers are made - and whose are broken.

Prompto, understandably, is a nervous wreck. Though the Crystal Cup won’t be his first Gran Prix, it  _will_  be the first time he’s had so many expectant eyes on him while he skates. Of course Cor has been eager to remind him of his victory in Altissia, and the expectations that taking the gold there have earned him; but Prompto knows there’s more to it than that. For the first time in his life, he’s got fans. Hordes of them, even, who stop him in cafes and supermarkets to ask for selfies, and who send him letters and gifts in the mail (half of which arrive at Gladio’s apartment, a fact that’s equal parts endearing and terribly embarrassing.)

He can trace his popularity boom back to Luna, and the day she decided to out his and Gladio’s relationship on social media, publicly (and  _positively_ ) before anyone else could muck up the chance. Thankfully, the feedback has been overwhelmingly supportive - but at the same time, it’s propelled Prompto to a level of stardom he wasn’t prepared for. If his most recent InstaMog follower count is any clue, then the pressure for him to perform well in the competition is enough to make his head spin.

For Gladio, watching his boyfriend push himself three, four, sometimes even five times a day at the rink is difficult. On on hand, he gets it. Knows Prom well enough by now to recognize the unquenchable fire inside him, and he does his best to help. That means reviewing Prom’s old performance videos between breaks, massaging and wrapping his swollen calves each night, and even learning to cook. Like,  _really_  cook, not just boiling hot water for his noodles, but preparing healthy, energizing meals that always bring that warm glow back to freckled cheeks.

Still, he sees the exhaustion in other ways: the dark circles, the sagged shoulders, the thin smiles. And he thinks, when the Gran Prix is finally over, Prom’s going to need a long vacation.

Somehow, the days leading up to the event gradually pass. Unable to sleep, Prompto is up long before the sun on the morning of the competition, leaving his side of the bed empty in favor of a jog around the neighborhood. But even the cool pre-dawn air isn’t enough to clear his mind, so he returns home to exchange the chilly dew for a long, hot shower.

 _Very long_ , apparently. Gladio finds him like that some time later, still standing in the spray with suds in his hair and unshed tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. “I can’t do it,” he says by way of greeting, and within seconds Gladio’s stripped down and joining him at his side.

“You can, baby. “ A soft kiss to his ear, another to his forehead, as thick fingers work in the shampoo. “Your body knows what to do. Trust it.”

“What if I lose?” Prompto’s voice is hollow and strained all at once.

“So what? You try again next time.” Gladio smiles as bright blue eyes focus up on him. “Everyone will still be here.  _I’ll_ still be here.” More kisses, this time pressed right to those sweet, pink lips he loves so much. “And Cor will still be here, and Ignis will still be here, and Noct and Luna and all your fans.”

As he speaks, the dams holding back Prompto’s emotions break at last. He cries as he hugs him, thin arms circling around that broad chest, until with each and every kiss it seems that another weight is lifted. By the time the hot water runs out, the blond is smiling again, and convinces Gladio to take him back to bed for a few stolen moments before the limelight.

They arrive at the rink just on time. Already, crowds of fans and reporters are lining up outside the stadium, and the excitement is palpable.

Turns out Cor has already been whisked away for an interview about his star skater, but Ignis, Noct, and the others are waiting in front of the VIP entrance. Even Iris, who’s a much bigger fan of hockey than figure skating, has come along in support, and Prompto can’t help but flush with joy at the sight of them all.

“We’ll be cheering for you the whole time!” Luna smiles, snatching him up in a hug.

“Believe in yourself, and in your training, Prompto. I certainly do.”

One hand in Iggy’s back pocket, Noct adds with a grin: “You’re gonna be awesome, dude.”

“Guys….”

Gladio is last. Ignoring the looks they’re given, he pulls Prompto into his arms and plants a big, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “Remember. Whatever happens, we’ll be right here at the end.”

Prompto shoulders his duffel bag, sniffles back another round of tears, and flashes them all the most brilliant smile he’s worn in days. “See you after the show.” To the sight of their encouraging waves, he ducks inside the stadium and beelines for the lockers.

* * *

The first round is the preliminary match, in which the skaters perform a familiar routine to showcase their talents. There are six other skaters in Prompto’s division, each representing a different city from around the globe: Dino Ghiranze, from ritzy Galdin; Dave Auburnbrie, the unlikely representative of Maldacio; Loqi Tummelt, a hot-headed competitor from Gralea; Takka, the skater-chef from Hammerhead; Vyv Dolton from Lestallum, surprisingly graceful for his size; and Pelna Khana, up-and-coming heartthrob from Galahd. Prompto’s been a fan of some of these skaters all his life, and to think he’ll be allowed to share the ice with them is a dream come true.

To beat them, he thinks, would be even better.

With Cor’s advice, Prompto’s chosen to use the routine that won him the gold in Altissia. He hopes that an early advantage in scoring will relax him enough for Round Two, when the  _real_  competition starts.

Warm ups finished, he changes into his costume (the sapphire-blue suit Gladio says brings out his eyes) and grabs his skates from his bag. Follows Cor out to the rink to wait for the prelims to start, and for the judges to announce the order of performers. The other skaters are there already, chatting at the rink side or waving to fans in the crowd. Prompto peers out at the audience in the stadium, and is shocked to see how packed the place is; every section is filled with groups of fans waving signs, holding up posters with messages to their favorite athletes, and cheering excitedly. He can’t quite pick out Gladio and the others just yet, but the rhythm of the crowd leaves the blond buzzing with renewed energy of his own.

“Prompto, over here,” he hears Cor call out to him, and practically bounces over to the rink gate. “Looks like you’re up third. Not the ideal spot, but we can make it work. Are you ready?”

Only a half-second of hesitation before he nods. “Yeah. I am.”

“Good. That’s the confidence I like to see.” Before he leaves to join the other coaches down the rink, he favors Prompto with a rare smile. Gentle, proud, and perhaps the final boost the blond needs to get out there and prove himself on the ice. With his boyfriend, his coaches, and his friends watching, he’s ready to show the world just what he’s been training for.

The lights dim, and music starts over the stadium speakers. A lone skater enters the rink - Cindy Aurum, the five-time international Women’s Singles champion and Olympic medalist - to conduct the opening ceremony. The crowd’s cheers grow impossibly louder, so much so that Prom has trouble hearing Cindy’s speech above the din. Before he knows it, she’s twirling around to an enthusiastic round of applause, and her voice over the speakers announces the judges will be introduced next.

Most of the judges are already big names in the skating world. There’s Camelia Claustra, the original founder and still-reigning queen of the Altissian Cup; Monica Elshett, a world-renowned coach born and raised right here in Insomnia; Kenny Crow, a retired mascot from a youth league who never gave up the costume; and, most surprising of all, _Ardyn Izunia._

Surprising because Ardyn is the only skater to have ever been kicked out of the sport, and yet remain connected enough to weasel his way in years later as a prominent judge. He’s also supposed to be on temporary suspension for misconduct during last season’s regionals. According to media reports (and the Board who also suspended Luna’s brother, Ravus, from the sport for twelve months), he was caught ‘accepting favors’ from one of the competitors in the event. According to Ravus himself, it was Ardyn who had pushed himself on him backstage.

Prompto isn’t sure which version to believe, but the sight of Izunia bowing in a dramatic flourish to the crowd sends his stomach twisting into knots.

Luckily, the tension doesn’t last long. As soon as the judges take their seats, the first skater is being called to the ice. It’s Pelna, the Galahdian skater, and despite his region’s arid climate he’s been nicknamed ‘Warrior of the Ice.’  _This_  is a performance Prompto wouldn’t miss for all the creepy judges in the world, and picks out a good spot next to the rink wall to watch.

* * *

Gladio has seen Prompto’s competitions before. He’s watched him train enough times now to  _think_  he knows what to expect. But as soon as the first performer is heading out onto the ice, it becomes clear that he’s never seen anything like this Gran Prix before.

Pelna Khara is, in a word, spectacular. Dressed in a flowing costume of blacks and silvers, he takes to the ice like an assassin, all stealth and speed and sleek turns. When he jumps, Gladio’s breath catches in his throat at the sheer air he gets, before he’s twirling back down in a perfect execution. Powerful, graceful. Not, he thinks, unlike Nyx. Even the music reminds him of the thrumming beats his Galahdian teammate often plays to pump up before a game.

The performance ends in a whirlwind of applause. Pelna skates to the center of the rink, and salutes in the manner of his people. “For hearth and home!” he chants, and the crowd cheers in answer.

Beside Gladio, Luna is clapping loudest of all. “That was incredible! His quads were flawless!”

“Truly remarkable control in his spins,” Ignis agrees from his other side.

Gladio nods. “Yeah, it was cool how he, uh, did that spinny jump thing.” Somewhere from Ignis’ shoulder he hears Noct snicker. But the conversation is cut short by the judges announcing the scores: 9, 9, 8.5, and a harsh 7 from the man on the end.

The next skater is Dino Ghiranze, a playboy from the beaches of Galdin, and an excellent showman. He appears in the rink wearing a jade-green and silver suit tailored to his slender frame, and a white cape flowing behind him to complete the look. As he blows a kiss to the crowd (sending up frenzied cheers in every direction) Gladio finds himself rolling his eyes. “Could this guy be any more full of himself?”

Yet as his routine proves, his confidence is not misplaced. In contrast to the skater before him, Dino is all grace and entertainment. Every axel jump ends with a showy kick of his blades on the ice; each spin is a tornado of white as his cape hugs around his chest. It’s a spectacle, to be sure, and the judges seem just as swayed - he skates off the ice to the scores of 9, 9.5, 9, and (again) a flat 7.

Prompto’s name is called next, and Gladio nearly jumps out of his seat in anticipation. The first two skaters are going to be tough to follow, he knows. As much as he wants Prompto to win, he also realizes the competition is fiercer than he’d imagined, and Prom’s gonna need something special to pull into the lead. For the first time, Gladio’s worried.

Until, of course, he actually sees his boyfriend glide out onto the glistening surface of the ice, all subdued blues and perfect posture. His eyes are closed, as if he’s focused solely on the moment before him. Holds his hands out in front of himself, draws them up in a stunning arc.

And then the music starts and he’s already dropping into a sitting spin. Gladio can’t hear the crowd over his own voice, cheering and whistling as he watches Prompto skate. He’s  _beautiful_ , every movement flowing into the next in a flawless dance upon the ice.  _Of course_  he’s perfect - Gladio’s seen him do this a hundred times - yet now, in front of so many people, he feels like he’s watching  _art_.

At one point during the performance, Noct reaches across Ignis to teasingly snap Gladio’s jaw shut.

In his zone, Prompto is unstoppable. He misses nothing, lands every jump with the precision of thousands of hours of practice. Moves with the grace of a dancer and the flexibility of a gymnast, until with a final spin jump (a triple axel, Luna supplies) he glides to a perfect stop in front of the judges booth.

The crowd goes wild, but none more so than Gladio himself,

It takes a moment for the judges to collect themselves to process the scores. The first sign goes up: 10.

The next: 9.5.

The third: 9.5.

He’s already taken the lead, surpassing the first two skaters by a comfortable margin. Even if the last judge gives him another 7, he’ll be well on his way to winning. Gladio - and the rest of the stadium - await the final score with bated breath.

The judge, a scruffy man with unkempt auburn hair and a bored smile, lifts his sign to show his decision: 5.

_Five._

Prompto is visibly crestfallen. Gladio and Ignis both jump to their feet in anger. Shouts and boos ring out around the rink, but the judge is unphased. His decision stands.

Prompto skates off the ice in third place, and with tears rolling down his cheeks.

* * *

_He can’t face Cor. He can’t even watch the next performance, not while knowing how miserably he’s already failed._

Prompto leaves his skates by the rink and rushes toward the locker rooms. Thinks better of such an obvious location, and instead finds an empty changing room off the main hall, locking himself inside it. The tears keep falling,  _won’t stop_ , and he hates himself for being so weak.

 _Five_.

The judgement had come from Ardyn Izunia, as notorious for his rinkside behavior as for his harsh critiques. But  _five_? It seems low even for him. Prompto hasn’t received anything below a seven since his first few years on the ice, and he isn’t quite sure how he’s meant to take the criticism. Where did he go wrong? What had he managed to screw up in his routine, when he’d executed it exactly as in his training?

Prompto doesn’t know how much time passes while he’s shut away in the changing room. His tears eventually dry, but his mood is no better off by the time there’s a knock on the door. For a moment, he wonders (hopes) it’s Gladio - there isn’t a single other person he wants to see right now - and with that thought in mind pushes himself up from the bench to answer it.

Yellow eyes greet him on the other side.  _Familiar_ , and yet the sight of them freezes Prompto to the core. “Ah, Argentum,” Ardyn Izunia greets in a far-too casual tone. “A little birdie told me you might have run off this way.”

“The preliminaries….” It’s the only response he can muster. If Ardyn is here now, then that means the competition is….

“Just finished, actually. I’m here on a much needed intermission.”

The preliminaries are really over? He’s missed them? “My score…?”

“Ah, yes.” Ardyn smiles - disarmingly - and steps closer until he’s backing Prompto into the room and closing the door behind him. “About that. I was hoping we could have a little chat.”

Red flags are going up in his mind, but he’s more concerned in the moment with knowing how he ranked in the first round of the Gran Prix. If the other skaters scored higher than him, then there’s no way he’ll be able to recover by the end. Ardyn’s broad figure becomes a blur in his field of vision as fresh tears flow. “Why…did you give me a five, sir?”

Shrugging, Ardyn reaches out to place a heavy hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “Because your reputation precedes you. I had heard the rumors of your prodigal talent, and frankly, I expected more from you.”

“But that routine took everything I had.”

“Everything? I think not. You can’t tell me your desire to win runs so shallow as to wager your entire future on a single, outdated performance?”

Blue eyes narrow. What is Ardyn saying? That his routine wasn’t good enough? That he doesn’t want to win strongly enough? “It’s not ‘outdated,’ I worked hard on that routine.”

“Said with true conviction.” The hand on his shoulder slides up, brushing over his neck to cup his cheek instead. “Perhaps I could be persuaded to help you along in the upcoming rounds. That is, if you’re willing to strike a deal. I’m a man of…simple pleasures, after all.“

That sickly sweet smile makes Prompto’s skin crawl, as does the thumb stroking over the curve of his jaw. Every nerve in his body is screaming for him to pull away, to run out of the room and far from those hungry yellow eyes. But, at the same time, fear stops him. Fear of the man’s power. Fear of the threat buried so obviously behind his words.

 _Give me what I want,_  his smirk seems to say,  _or your career ends here._

A moment of hesitation is all it takes. Ardyn closes in, his lips like fire burning a trail up the side of his neck. Prompto stumbles, loses his balance, and Ardyn exploits that, too; pushes him up against the changing room wall until there’s nowhere for him left to run. Panic grips him, leaves him vulnerable as rough hands begin to paw at his body beneath his costume.

_What do I do…?_

“You get your  _fucking_  hands off him.” The voice is unexpected, but horribly familiar. Ardyn turns to the source of the threat just as Gladio’s fists close around his jacket, yanking him backwards and away from Prompto in a single move. In his surprise, he loses his footing, falls to the ground and then Gladio is on him again. One hand in the front of his shirt, the other rearing back for the punch of a lifetime.

Gladio snarls. Ardyn’s eyes go wide. But before he can land the blow, Prompto is rushing forward to stop him. “No! Gladio, don’t!”

“What do you mean, ‘ _don’t_ ’? This creep was trying to –”

“He’s a judge! Please, stop!”

Gladio’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. He releases Ardyn (who, in those few precious seconds of opportunity, makes his escape through the open door) and whirls around on Prompto instead. “You mean you were  _letting him_  touch you?”

“What? No, but….”

“But what? I’m trying to help you!”

Prompto’s already-panicked nerves are on overload. All he can think about is Izunia, how he’s going to tamper with the scores again to make sure his career is washed. How it isn’t fair, how he’s worked so hard and now he’s lost everything. Shaking, Prompto steps forward and puts his hands on Gladio’s chest, not pulling him closer but instead pushing him away as hard as he can. “You’ve ruined everything! There’s no way I’m going to win now!”

Amber eyes blink rapidly. Gladio’s brain can’t process what he’s hearing, and he masks his confusion with more anger. “The hell are you saying? You win by skating, out there on the ice! Not by sucking some dude’s dick back here!”

“You don’t know what it’s like. You have no idea!”

“You’re right.” The door’s still open. Ardyn is long gone down the hallway as Gladio gets to his feet and starts to step away. “I don’t get it at all. I thought you were better than this, Prom.”

“Maybe you were wrong.”

Prompto doesn’t mean it, any of it, but he can’t find the words now to take it back. He watches Gladio storm out of the room, and feels his heart crumbling more with each heavy step.  _I’m sorry, come back!_ He wraps his arms around himself.  _Gladio, it’s not like that._ Falls to his knees and doubles over on himself, too drained to cry, to scream, to stop his boyfriend from leaving.

The door slams closed in Gladio’s wake, and never in his life has Prompto felt so alone.


	21. Gran Finale ("Better Together")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it takes losing something important to understand how much it really means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the gran finale of Promptio on Ice! Thanks for reading, and taking part in this project over on Tumblr. I'm grateful for the time and energy that awesome people like you put into helping this come together. 
> 
> This last chapter was originally posted as part of Promptio Week 2018

“Don’t you think you should, y’know,  _talk to him?_ ”

“Look, I already made up my mind.” Under the weight of his jacket, Gladio’s shoulders sag. He risks a glance back - at the stadium, at the parking lot, at the colorful banners that announce the Gran Prix he’s not going to see the end of - and steels himself. “It’s been a long time coming.”

The voice through his phone sounds less convinced. “You sure? I mean, this is a big deal. Like,  _big_ -big. This is gonna change everything.”

He pauses. Sucks in a breath of chilly, February air, and nods his head. “Yeah. It is.”

“Hey. You do you, the team’s got your back no matter what. Personally, though,” he hears Nyx’s cynical grin even without having to see it. “I think this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Not yet it isn’t. Are you coming or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m leaving now.”

“Good,” Gladio growls over the sound of a bike engine roaring to life. “‘Cause I got one more favor to ask on the way.”

—–

It’s nearly the start of the second round, and Prompto still hasn’t returned to the rink. Of all of his friends, Ignis is the most concerned, and insists on going to look for the skater himself. Noct, of course, agrees to go with him, while Iris points out with a roll of her eyes that, like, her dumb brother is missing, too. “Aren’t they probably just… _y’know_. Being gross somewhere?”

“All the more reason to bring them back immediately,” Ignis snaps. After all, such urges - no matter how understandable - are no excuse for tardiness; and  _really_ , both Gladio and Prompto should know better.

The plan is simple: he and Noctis will circle the halls behind the main arena. Luna will keep an eye on their seats while texting the other skaters - Ravus included - to help pinpoint Prompto’s location. Iris will go to the concession stand for more snacks (Noct’s idea), and they’ll all rendezvous in ten minutes, hopefully with their missing friends in tow.

“Honestly, I can’t believe them,” Ignis sighs, as he and Noct make their way through the crowds toward the back of the stadium. “How could they be so irresponsible at a time like this?”

Squeezing his hand, Noct smirks. “Because it’s  _them_. At least they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Really, Specs? Think about it. Where would you go if you were in the mood for a quickie right now?”

Behind sharp lenses, he can see the gears turning in Iggy’s mind. “…I suppose I’d take you somewhere private. With a door that we could lock while I blow you against it.” (Noct finds himself swallowing a little louder than necessary) “Ah! Of course! The changing rooms.”

Ignoring the blush on his boyfriend’s cheeks, Ignis pulls him the rest of the way down the hall.

—-

They’re expecting… _noises_. They’re expecting to find one or both of their friends with their pants around their ankles. They’re expecting it to be awkward, and they think they’re prepared. What they  _don’t_  expect is to turn the corner past the locker rooms to find Prompto, alone, sitting against the wall with his face buried in his hands.

Sobbing.

Noct is at his side in the span of a heartbeat. “Dude, Prom, hey,” he starts, not entirely sure in that moment if he should hug him or keep his distance. Instinct has him reaching tentatively for a trembling shoulder. “Prompto?”

Ever observant, Ignis kneels down next to them both. “Prompto…. This isn’t only about your scores in the preliminaries. What’s happened?”

“Gladio’s gone.”

The two exchange surprised looks.

“He’s gone. It’s all my fault.”

“Prom, what do you mean he’s ‘gone’? Did you guys have an argument or something?” Noct can’t exactly picture it; not with the way Prompto and Gladio always look at each other, like lovesick puppies with those constant goofy grins plastered to their faces. Very different, he thinks, from the red-rimmed, tear-filled baby blues he’s looking into now.  

“I don’t, um,” Prompto sniffs, struggling to fight back another wave or anguish. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Ignis, ever the tactician, mumbles a low ‘ _good riddance_ ’ under his breath, just audible enough to send Prompto wailing all over again. Noct shoots his boyfriend the most imploring look he’s ever worn (except, perhaps, for that one time when his wrists were cuffed to the bed) and stumbles for a recovery on behalf of the both of them. “He didn’t mean it, Prom. Gladio’s stubborn and thick-headed, and kind of an asshole sometimes…and okay, yeah, you could totally do much better than him. B-but he isn’t stupid!”

“Are you certain we’re talking about the same Gladio, then?”

“Igs, you’re killing me. Look, dude.” Settling down at Prompto’s side, Noct ignores his misgivings and goes right for his friend’s shoulders. Curls his fingers firmly in the fabric of his costume, and looks him square in the eye. “Gladio loves you. Know how I know that?”

A slowly shake of his blond head.

“Because he tells me  _all the damn time_. He talks about you like you’re some kind of angel, and he gets this dumb, dopey grin on his face that makes me wanna puke.” As expected, Prompto can’t help but let out a laugh at the image. “He’s crazy about you, and no one who loves someone that much can just walk out of their life forever. No matter what, okay?”

Though his eyes are still wet with unshed tears, Prompto manages a smile. Under Noct’s hands, his body relaxes the tiniest fraction, and he gives a nod in answer. “O-okay. Thanks, buddy.”

“Anytime, dude.”

“Well said, Noctis. Now, if I’m not mistaken, this ‘ _dude_ ’ has a competition to go win.” His own lips curve up in amusement or excitement, or both, and Ignis holds out a hand to each of them. Helps first Prompto then Noct up to their feet, and together they head back down the hall to the rink.

There, Cor and the other skaters are waiting, tensions high, for the  _real_  Gran Prix to begin.

—–

The door slams open on its hinges. Swings hard enough to crack the plaster of the adjacent wall, and yet Gladio doesn’t bother slowing down. One of his fists tightens around ivory silk. At his side, the other is poised, ready,  _waiting_  for the man in front of him to dare to open his mouth.

He does, and Gladio hits him before the first words can even make it past his throat.

_Thud_. Hard knuckles on flesh, a well-aimed - and well-tempered - shot to the jaw; powerful, disorienting, but not enough to break the bone. Ardyn should consider himself lucky he knows how to pull a punch.

The  _crack_  of the man’s skull on the wall as he’s slammed against it, on the other hand….

“Just in case you got the impression I’m here to talk,” Gladio sneers. “That oughta answer any questions.”

“ _Quite_.” Ardyn throws his hands up, a gesture of surrender as that massive fist rears back in response, and he offers a smile. It’s bloody, his lip an angry red where its been split, and as crooked as he is. “An inquiry, then, if you will. Consider it a last request before you bludgeon me with those meaty hands of yours.”

“Spit it out, creep. Clock’s ticking.”

“How is it you intend to get away with this, exactly?” Yellow eyes flash, sharp and dangerous despite the predicament in which he finds himself. “Or has sweet little Argentum not told you who I am?”

“Oh, I know who you are.”

More blood runs down Ardyn’s chin as his smile stretches wide. “ _Good_ , good. Then you must also know that this stunt of yours has already cost him his career.  _He’s finished._  I’ll see to it that he never steps foot inside another rink so long as he lives.”

“…That all?”

“ _All?_  Is that not  _everything_?” Though his grin shrinks, his words are still sharp with intent to maim. “Or perhaps your little lovers’ spat earlier has hardened your heart? In that case, I’ll gladly consider picking up your  _trash_.”

Ardyn sees the second punch coming, but there’s nothing he can do. His eyes squeeze shut as knuckles collide once again with the flesh of his face, a blow that knocks him right from Gladio’s grip to send him sprawling to the floor. Blood drips from his mouth, his nose, but the hockey player is just getting started. As he’s hauled up by the back of his shirt, he lets out a most unsettling laughter.

“The only trash here is  _you_ ,” Gladio snarls, and hits Ardyn again. And again, picking him up off the floor each time only to get in another shot. Every one of them is satisfying.  _For Prom_ , he thinks, feeling the man’s nose break under his fist.  _For all the others he’s hurt. This ends here._

Ten good punches in and there’s a knock on the door. Ardyn, who had gone momentarily limp in his grasp, perks up again, his yellow eyes darting to the source of what he assumes to be his saving grace. “Help! Help me!” he shouts. “This gorilla man is trying to kill me!”

The door opens, and the blows cease. Gladio doesn’t bother to glance back.

“Ah, good sir! Thank you, thank you.” Bloody, eyes and hair wild, Ardyn struggles away from his captor and toward the figure standing just outside. “Apprehend this criminal at once - you can see for yourself what’s happened.”

Nyx’s grin is decidedly unfriendly. “Yeah. Looks like my buddy could use some help in here defending justice.”

“And his man’s honor,” Libertus adds, crowding behind his teammate in the doorway.

Ardyn is trapped. He staggers back, only to find himself pressed once more against Gladio’s solid chest. Surprise turns to panic, his eyes flash wide. He cries out as powerful hands grip his limbs, hold him immobilized and helpless, stiff with fear. Only  _then_  does he notice the other two men waiting in the hallway.

“Well done, son,” Clarus greets with a twitch of his mouth. “But did you  _really_  have to break his face?”

Next to him, Regis’ expression is a mask of frigid anger. “I do believe it’s an improvement, actually. Gentlemen, would you please escort our ‘guest’ out back? My friends in blue have a few questions for him.”

——

This is it. No more running.

Prompto stares out at the expanse of ice before him, and draws in a breath. For perhaps the first time in his life, he’s going out into the rink with a single, powerful purpose.

It’s not about his score, or even winning the competition. It’s not about making his coaches proud, or impressing his fans. It’s not about anything, really - not the judges, the audience, the TV cameras, not even about Gladio or their fight. No, when Prompto goes out on the ice this time, he’s going out there  _to skate_.

He’s doing this for himself. To  _prove_  himself, in a way; to make himself stronger. Strong enough, he hopes, to be deserving of the love his friends have shown him, and to win back the one person who matters most. Because Gladio was right, even if his way of showing it had felt like a slap to the face. So he’s gonna do what he came here to do, and the rest can go fuck itself.

Overhead, his name is announced to the din of distant cheers. Another deep breath, slow, calm. He focuses on the  _scrape_  of his blades against the fresh ice as the music he’s chosen for the routine begins to play above the rink. It’s time.

—–

Ignis’ heart is practically in his throat. Squeezed as tightly as his fingers in Noct’s hand, the both of them unable to take their eyes off the rink. They’re worried, of course, about how well Prompto can perform after everything that’s happened, and they know, too, that his score from the preliminaries is going to be hard to recover. In order to win this, he’s going to need a lot of luck, a miracle, or maybe even both.

Next to them, Luna and Iris are clasping each other just as close at the edge of their seats. Just as nervous, just as excited to see their friend give his all in this, his moment of truth. In fact, the same hush seems to fall over the entire audience, everyone going breathless with anticipation. Before them, Prompto Argentum - the fan-favorite, the underdog whose unfair score in the preliminaries has already shocked the skating world - comes to a halt in the center of the rink.

His costume is simple yet flattering. Black leggings travel up the subtle curves of his thighs, disappear under a dark grey leotard accented with burst of yellow like glittering stars. Iris herself helped to sew the costume, and she suddenly feels a burst of pride at seeing how well Prompto wears it. Elegant, but not flashy, it suits him in every way.

The music is already playing, and several cheers go up in recognition of the song. Ignis knows it better than most, if only because he’s seen Prompto pour his heart and soul into this routine for months now. Each movement comes from somewhere deep inside him, has a meaning all its own and  _that_ , Ignis truly believes, is what’s going to make this performance unforgettable. Judges be damned - Prompto’s the most talented skater here by far.

“He’s starting.” Noct’s voice pulls him back to the moment. Together, they watch Prompto take off, flawlessly channeling the rhythm of the music as he moves toward the far wall.

_…Look at the stars…._

He lifts his head, drapes his arms one over the other in front of him.

_…Look how they shine for you…._

Raises both arms and allows his legs to drift apart, back arching with an almost sensual energy. The song continues, and with it Prompto’s energy ebbs and flows, a beautiful melody of movement, of glides and spins and perfect landings. It’s as if, Ignis muses, breath catching somewhere in his throat, he’s watching a secret love affair transpire on the ice; an act so private, so  _intimate_  that he feels he’s a voyeur intruding upon Prompto’s art. “Incredible,” he whispers, afraid anything louder might break the spell. “He’s simply  _incredible_.”

“Yeah. He really is, isn’t he?”

_That_  voice catches him - catches all of them - by surprise. The four turn as one to see Gladio making his way through the seats toward them. Unexpected, certainly, and perhaps under other circumstances Ignis would have taken that moment to lash him with a few choice words. But as it is, he takes one quick look at the man - at his haggard smile and the thick bandages covering his knuckles, and snaps his mouth shut.

Noct isn’t quite so tactful. “You bothered to show up after all, huh.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Gladio slides into his seat next to Iris (who also appears caught between hugging her brother and giving him a piece of her mind) and gazes out at the rink where Prompto is already reaching the climax of his routine.

—–

_One more jump._ Prompto kicks his feet, sending his body careening forward across the expanse of ice until the wind makes him feel like he’s flying. It blows his hair from his face, lifts him up and then he’s smiling, eyes blinking with tears against the bright stadium lights. This feels good.  _Better than good._  This feels like freedom.

As the song crescendos, he finds his muscles know exactly what to do. They carry him up, up off of the ice and into a spin -  _once, twice, three times_  - to come down onto the blade of his left skate, sticking the landing. He barely notices the roar of cheers that go up around him.

Lights dim, the music fades, and Prompto glides to a stop in the very center of the rink. His heart is fluttering against his ribs, yet as he lifts his head the reality of the moment returns to him. All around, he sees the audience standing up, cheering, signs and hands and banners waving -  _waving for him_ \- and he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.

_He did it._

—-

Noct turns and throws himself into Iggy’s arms. “He did it! Did you see?!”

“I did.” He can’t hide his own tears - tears of pride - as he returns the hug with as much strength as he can muster. “Looks like he finally found his true potential. No, thanks to  _you_ , I ima…gine…?” 

But when he glances to his left, Gladio’s seat is completely empty.

—-

The first judge’s sign goes up. And the second, and the third. All of them  _10s._  There’s no fourth judge this time, but in Prompto’s numbing disbelief he hardly notices or cares.

A perfect score. In all his years of skating, he’s never even seen it happen. It feels like a dream, the most unreal moment of his life; and yet, as movement ahead of him catches his attention, he realizes the dream is far from over.

Gladio -  _Gladio! -_  is running toward him. Well, more like  _sliding_  toward him, as he’s still wearing his sneakers even out on the ice. How did he…? When did he…? Questions flood Prompto’s mind, so fast and so overwhelming that all he can do is blink as his boyfriend charges forward, and the entire stadium falls quiet in surprise.

He skids to a graceless stop, right into Prompto who manages to catch him at the last second. In his arms, Gladio feels so warm, so solid and larger than life. Blue eyes rake up his frame -  _is this even real?_  - as tears begin to sting at the backs of them. More questions, several thudding heartbeats pass. Yet just as Prompto opens his mouth to ask, Gladio leans into him, folds his arms around his waist and pulls him into a deep, powerful kiss right there in front of the entire world.  

And Prompto, floodgates breaking, throws himself into it with every ounce of passion contained in his heart. Gladio’s lips, his tongue, his fingers sliding back through his hair - he needs them all now in that moment more than he’s ever needed them before. They remind him that  _yes, this is real;_  that win or lose, everyone is still here for him, just as Gladio said they would be. And as tightens his fingers in his boyfriend’s jacket and tugs him in closer, he thinks nothing could possibly make this moment more perfect.

But he’s wrong again.

Gladio’s lips break away from his. Not far, but Prompto’s left reeling, caught between staring up into adoring amber eyes or chasing his mouth again. It’s then that he notices the crowd’s begun a rhythmic cheer, and flowers are raining down onto the rink as his friends and fans alike break into celebration. Music is playing - the same song as he used in his routine, but it feels different somehow - and the lights dim another shade.

“Prompto.”

The skater swallows hard. His bottom lip is trembling, and inside his chest his heart is racing a million miles a minute.

“ _Gods,_ I’m glad I didn’t slip on my way out here,” Gladio laughs (nervously?) “Really woulda ruined the build up.”

“Build…up?”

“For this.”

_Oh, no. No. no nonono!_  Prompto’s legs are suddenly shaking beneath him, his skates threatening to topple him right onto his ass because Gladio is suddenly pulling away again. Reaching for something in his jacket as he kneels down, jeans scraping on the ice and  _damn that has to be cold,_  Prompto thinks, but his secret smile never once falters. Not even as Gladio holds the ring out into the space between them, the same brilliant amber-gold color of his eyes.

“Uh, Nyx didn’t have time to find the box, but…. Prompto?” He clears his throat to the sound of rising applause. “You’ve already made me the happiest guy in the world. I was hoping…you’d like to make me the luckiest, too?”

The crowd is waiting. Somewhere in the stands, Noct’s jaw has dropped and Iris is trying not to gag, while Cor watches rinkside in terrifying silence. All of them as eager for Prompto’s answer as Gladio is - though admittedly with less on the line.

Yet he doesn’t even hesitate. Why would he?

“Yeah,” he grins through the tears. “Of course I will, big guy.”

Gladio’s face breaks into a smile that’s bright enough to light up the entire arena, and as Prompto tumbles into him they both go down laughing.

—–

He can see them at the coaches’ stand: Cor, Ignis, and Gladio, who’s  _somehow_  talked  _someone_  into letting him stay behind the scenes. Prompto’s glad for it, though. It reminds him he’s not doing this alone.

Confident, his head held high, Prompto skates out to receive his medal.

As luck would have it, Ardyn Izunia had suddenly been taken into custody by the CCPD just before the start of the second round. Though the charges against him remained unclear, his arrest - combined with his prior (and extensive) history of misconduct - was enough to immediately cost him his position within the Eos Skating Federation. By the time the Gran Prix results were announced, the ESF had already removed him from the panel of judges - thereby dismissing his scores for the entire event, and giving Prompto an unchallenged victory.

Technicality or not, a miracle is a miracle, he thinks. Yeah, he’s seen Gladio’s hands, and no, he really doesn’t want to know how he did it. There will be time enough to thank him later. This moment, the one where he bows his head as Cindy Aurum places the gold medal around his neck - this is the moment he’s been dreaming of. Day and night since the first time he tried on a pair of skates that were two sizes too big. And he intends, with his friends, his coaches, and his fiance watching, to make the most of every second.

After all,  _he’s earned it._

<3 

**~BONUS!~**

Low music. Somewhere, a man sings along to the hum of an accordion. Boats on the water. Voices, laughter, the clink of glasses from the cafe downstairs.

The sounds of Altissia at night are magical in their own way, Gladio thinks. So different from Insomnia, and yet he feels surprisingly at ease here. No cares, no worries; everything he needs in the whole world is asleep in his arms, and the noise outside their hotel window only serves to remind him how at peace that makes him feel.

Moonlight drifts in through the curtains. Illuminates Prompto’s form atop his chest, every freckle a dark star against a pale, soft sky. He can’t help but touch him, of course. To brush his knuckles over Prom’s skin, down the curve of his shoulder to his arm, draped comfortably as it is between them. Further down his wrist, his hand, his fingers, and the simple gold ring he wears there. It’s cool to the touch, but Gladio smiles anyway as their fingers lace together.

On his chest, Prompto stirs enough to cast sleepy blue eyes up at him. He’s smiling, too, soft and perfect in the moonlight. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” comes the answer, and Gladio shifts so that he can get a better view. Naked, only partially covered beneath white sheets, Prompto is a sight he never wants to miss. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. Was just thinking.”

“About what?”

Thick fingers brush a strand of blond from Prompto’s face. “ _You_.”

That pulls a blush to freckled cheeks, even if Prompto masks it smoothly with a well-timed snort. “Flatterer.” He settles more firmly down on Gladio’s chest then, the fingers of his free hand moving almost absently as they trace his throat, his collarbones, the dark lines of his tattoo. Outside, the sounds of the street fill the comfortable silence. “Gladdy?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Thank you.”

“…For?”

“Everything,” Prompto shrugs, and means it. There’s too much to put into words; too much left unsaid, and yet he doesn’t have the attention span to find them all in that moment. His fingers, however, have no trouble finding Gladio’s lips, or the warmth between them as he dips them into inviting heat.

Amber eyes, playful and curious, watch him close. “ _Mmm?_ ”

“Y’know,” Prompto continues as he grows bolder. “ _Everything._ ”

A foot slides up Gladio’s calf, and yeah -  _yeah, he gets it._  Responds by chuckling deep in his throat, the flat of his tongue swiping across probing fingers. Above him, Prompto’s blue eyes darken in the light.

“You, um. Maybe up for another round, big guy?”

“Mm. You gotta ask?”

The blond grins, drops his head to bury his face in the crook of Gladio’s neck. Hums as that rough jawline tickles his cheek. “Just don’t want to wear you out before your season even starts. What’ll the team do without you?”

“They managed before.” Grinning, Gladio releases his hold on Prompto’s body to instead stretch his arms above his head. Settles back into the pillows to press lazy kisses to fingertips and palm alike. “So do your worst, babe.”

The streets of Altissia swallow up the sounds of lips meeting, of the mattress creaking as Prompto crawls his way up Gladio’s body. When the night is over, they’ll get on a plane to take them back home; back to routines and practices and weekend games. Back to fans and cameras and interviewers wanting to know how the twos biggest names on the ice spent their honeymoon in paradise.

But the night isn’t over yet, and this moment, this moment just for them, deserves to be savored.

After all,  _they’ve earned it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: AAHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING *spazz* I finally finished! Thanks to everyone who sent in asks and comments, who liked or reblogged or even just read the story without saying anything at all. I hope this story was a fun ride for you - cheesy at times, but that’s honestly how I like my Promptio best ;) See you guys in the next project!
> 
> (copied from Tumblr before the Purge of 2018)


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